


Heartlines

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magical Realism, Magical Tattoos, Memory Loss, Stucky Big Bang 2017, Witch!Steve, i'm like netflix i post everything at once, limited understanding of my own lore let's not delve too deep, memory recovery, witch hunter!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: As a child, Steve’s family was brutally murdered by witch hunters, and he’s been running ever since. He hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long time, but now he’s met Bucky, a guy that’s funny, smart, and hot as hell. But what Steve doesn’t know, is that Bucky is avoiding hunters as well: his parents, who want to bring him back into the family business. When they ask Bucky to find one last witch, with the promise he’ll be out of the business for good, what happens when Steve finds out he’s the target? Will they be able to get past centuries of bias and bloodshed and find happiness together?





	1. Strange Days

**Author's Note:**

> wheee okay this has been a labour of love for ten months (ten months!) and tbh i am literally so glad to see it go lmao.
> 
> huge, _huge_ thank you to jade, who has been with me literally since the moment of inception (thanks skype!) and has been a great to bounce ideas off ever since and keep me moving in this damn thing. another massive thank you to my amazing beta, darling, who has been so amazing and helpful with literally _everything_. i cannot thank you both enough. (additional shout out to the cheerleaders in the slack bee cult!)
> 
> accompanying art by falcon-hill is [here](http://falcon-hill.tumblr.com/post/164471948233/heartlines)!

It had been a long time since Steve had needed to go traceless, not for over two hundred years. This felt familiar; people still managing to pick up his trail, even though he had covered it. Even though he was leaving absolutely no sign at all that he had been there.

Last time, people had been following him, however far behind, because he wasn’t exactly… _good_ at going traceless. He had covered his fire marks, he had dismantled his shelters, sending branches back to the trees he had borrowed them from. He had covered his tracks by creating wind to blow leaves across. He hadn’t made himself invisible to the eyes of the people he passed, however few there were, and a boy, covered in strange pictures, wasn’t exactly something anyone would forget easily.

This time, Steve knew exactly what he was doing. He had modern equipment to help him. He climbed trees and wove platforms from branches, so that he could pitch a small tent and create a basecamp for himself for a few days at a time. He hovered his fires in the palms of his hands and set them carefully in the air during the day to cook his food. He left no evidence of himself, and he crossed no one.

Yet, Steve was still scared out of his mind. The last time he had been hunted like this, he was merely a child. He was in his _teens,_ for God’s sake. He had been forced away from his family and his friends by the people who had killed them. He had run with his limited, and sometimes not at all helpful, knowledge. His tattoos hadn’t been useful, then. He hadn’t been able to utilise them nearly as well as he could now. He had nothing and no one.

Now, he had friends. He had a _job_. An apartment. Pets. Natasha would look after them until Steve returned when it was safe, but how long would that be? Steve wasn’t being hunted by an amateur. He wasn’t being hunted by someone who recreationally stalked deer. He was being _hunted_ by someone who had learned the skill as it had been passed down from father to son for generations.

The hunters possessed magic, but not to the capacity of Steve’s people. They had tracking magic, able to pull week old remnants of smoke from the air, to taste his day-old perspiration in the moisture clinging to the damp ground. They knew what they were doing, and they were fucking good at it. That was why Steve had always needed to be so careful. They could feel his magic when he walked past, and it pricked at something ancient in their souls, saying _this person needs to be stopped._

Steve had been picked up by police a few times for that reason – the descendant of a hunter never knew what drove them to it. They just knew that Steve was something they were against, even though they could never pinpoint it. A descendant had a hunter too many generations back to know anything about the world they were merely tasting. Steve didn’t have a criminal record, never would, and the people who called him in were usually chastised for stereotyping tattooed people as bad. That was usually when Steve moved towns.

Steve had never been as close to a hunter as the one who was on his trail now. He had never felt so drawn to someone, and he had never felt so stupid for trusting his intuition that someone was good and _safe_. Steve had trusted this hunter, without even knowing what he was.

Then again, the hunter had done the same. He hadn’t known who – _what_ – Steve was. Not until it was too late, and Steve was forced to wipe the hunter’s memories of him and flee.

On Steve’s trail was a man named James.

On Steve’s trail, _hunting_ him, was the man he loved more than life itself.

 

* * *

 

_Five months earlier._

 

‘Steve, I need you to get in the back and whip up another batch of the vanilla and rose candles,’ Nat said, popping her head around the corner into the office.

Steve looked up from his cup of instant ramen and frowned. ‘I did a batch two days ago. There should be twenty or thirty in the storeroom.’

Natasha frowned slightly and disappeared, coming back a few minutes later with her hands full of candles. ‘Found them. Can you go out to the front? There’s a guy wandering around looking lost.’

Steve whined and held up his food. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, like it won’t still be hotter than the fires of Hell when you get back,’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘Just go help the poor man. It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.’

‘Fine,’ Steve sighed and wrapped his hands around his noodle cup, willing a small amount of energy to surround it and keep it warm until he returned. ‘Where did you say he was?’

‘Outside near the gerberas.’

‘Why do they always go to the gerberas?’

‘Bright colours?’

Steve huffed and stood up, pulling his sleeves down to his wrists to hide his tattoos. The men that came to Natasha’s gift shop and boutique garden store were usually the sort that would freak if they saw a glimpse of ink on someone’s skin. That meant long layers when appropriate, and expending precious energy to cast a glamour when it was too hot for anything but professionally acceptable tank tops and shorts – not just for Steve, either. It was a problem he shared with Natasha.

Steve rounded the door to the outside section and spotted a head of hair bobbing around between the gerberas and begonias. As he approached, he realised he might not need to worry too much about hiding his tattoos. This guy was his age, and was showing off a bit of ink himself.

‘Can I help you?’ Steve asked, once he was within range of the guy. ‘Looking for anything in particular?’

The guy turned quickly and flicked his eyes up and down Steve quickly. ‘I could answer that one of two ways.’

Steve raised an eyebrow and allowed a small smile. ‘Are you looking for any _plant_ in particular?’

He shrugged and took out his phone, unlocking it and tapping a couple of times. ‘It’s Mother’s Day this weekend, right?’

‘Yep. Need a gift?’

‘My mom told me I need to get her something called an agapanthus, and some “expensive mom things”,’ he said, making air quotes with his fingers. ‘She recommended I come here. Said your plants never die or something.’

Steve laughed. ‘We only sell them. It’s up to the owner to take care of it. Agapanthus, you said?’

‘Yeah,’ the guy looked down to the gerberas and begonias with a frown. ‘Not these?’

‘No, not those,’ Steve shook his head and led him towards the section with the agapanthuses. ‘We have white and blue, though they’re sort of a blue-purple colour when they bloom.’

‘My mom likes boring things, so I’ll take a white one.’

Steve selected a good plant, not wilting like a couple of them seemed to be (which he would tend to later) and handed it to the guy. ‘You said some “mom things” as well?’

‘Yeah, I’m guessing she means like candles or soap or something.’

‘It’s a good thing we sell both of those, then. Would you like me to show you?’

‘That would be great,’ the guy nodded, following Steve back inside, agapanthus in hand. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ Steve said, stopping between the shelves of candles and soaps and gesturing to them. ‘What sort of scent does she like?’

‘She’s big on lavender and roses and vanilla. Like I said, she can be pretty boring.’

Steve hummed thoughtfully as he searched the shelves for items in the suggested fragrance. ‘What was your question?’

‘Oh,’ the guy laughed to himself quietly. ‘Just wondering why a guy like _you_ works _here_.’

Steve passed him one of the newly restocked vanilla and rose candles to smell, as he considered how to answer his question. ‘Well, my friend owns the shop, and I guess when I moved here, she felt sorry for me.’

‘That’s not very exciting. I was hoping you’d say you were on the run from the law or something and this is the last place they would look for you,’ the guy sniffed the candle and made a noise of appreciation. ‘That’s really good.’

‘Thanks, I made it a few days ago,’ Steve preened at the praise. Even though he _knew_ his candles were good, he sometimes worried the gentle scent might not be strong enough for some people to really enjoy.

‘You made this?’

‘Yeah, we hand-make all our candles and soaps and things like that. It was my turn. Usually is around holidays.’

‘Huh. So you actually like working here? You’re _not_ running from the law?’

‘Nope,’ Steve shrugged, but put a little extra energy into the usual shield he kept up to stop descendants of hunters getting suspicious of him, just in case. ‘It’s nice here. Slow. It’s a good pace for me.’

‘You could easily get a gig as a model or something, though.’

Steve rolled his eyes at the obvious hitting on him. ‘Nah, not my sort of thing. Besides,’ he pushed his sleeves up and tugged down the collar of his shirt, exposing some of his tattoos. ‘I’m not exactly what a lot of people are looking for to sell their products.’

The guy’s eyes widened as he took in the ink. ‘Man, you’re making me feel amateur,’ he huffed, nodding towards his own tattoos. ‘How long you been working on yours?’

‘I started when I was thirteen, but it’s not as much as it looks.’ _Most of it gets covered with a glamour when I’m around other people._

‘Isn’t it illegal to get a tattoo that young?’

Steve shrugged and tugged his sleeves back down, pushing some energy towards the guy to make him forget the majority of the tattoos once he left. ‘It wasn’t done in a shop.’

‘Ah.’

Steve cleared his throat and looked back to the range of items he had taken down for the customer. ‘Uh, so, did you want anything else for your mom? If you think she might like that scent, we also do two larger sizes and a soap, as well as hand cream.’

‘Oh God,’ the guy muttered. ‘Yeah, I’ll take the largest candle and then the soap and the cream, I think. I’ve been a bad son this year.’

‘Oh?’

‘Taking a break from the family business, stuff like that.’

Steve nodded. ‘Disappointing the parents. I hear they don’t like that.’

‘Are you saying you’re the perfect son?’ the guy grinned. ‘I could be a bad influence on you.’

Steve laughed. ‘Never got the chance to be a disappointing child. My parents died when I was seventeen.’

The guy’s smile faded. ‘Shit, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. Well, it’s not, not really. They didn’t exactly have a peaceful death, but it was a long time ago.’ Steve turned to start putting the unneeded items back on the shelf. ‘Did you want anything else for your mom?’

‘Do you sell chocolates?’

‘We do, yeah. They’re –’

‘Handmade by you guys?’

Steve grinned. ‘They are handmade, but not by us. We know a guy. Do you want a generic selection box?’

‘Yeah, that would be great. Biggest size you’ve got.’

‘Your mom must be so pissed at you for leaving the family business, huh?’

‘You have no idea,’ the guy muttered, trailing behind Steve as he went to the display of chocolates beside the register. ‘She was a dream compared to my dad, though.’

‘Well, Father’s Day is next month, right?’

‘Yeah, and I’ll probably be back then, as well.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Steve said, ringing up the guy’s items. ‘Do you want these gift wrapped?’

‘Nah, that’s okay. I like to watch her struggle with all the tape I use.’

Steve laughed as he put everything in a bag while the guy counted out some cash and put it on the counter. ‘Gotta get some kind of fun out of it, I guess.’

‘Exactly,’ he agreed, taking the change Steve held out to him. ‘I should go wrap all this stuff. Have fun with the Mother’s Day rush.’

‘Thanks, have fun watching your mom fight the tape.’

The guy winked. ‘Oh, I will.’

Steve watched him leave, and sighed gently. _Nice ass._

‘I heard that,’ Natasha said, appearing from nowhere. ‘Don’t say things like that about customers, Steve.’

‘I didn’t say…’ Steve narrowed his eyes. ‘You know, just because you can get into my head doesn’t mean you _should_.’

‘I _didn’t_!’ Natasha protested. ‘You were broadcasting again! That’s why I don’t live with you.’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘I’m gonna go finish eating, okay?’

‘Uh huh. I’ll let you know if your boyfriend comes back, shall I?’

‘He won’t, but thanks,’ Steve said, heading back to the office to eat his ramen.

‘So you admit he’s your boyfriend?’ Natasha called.

_Fuck off, Nat._

He heard Natasha laugh as he sat back down to his hot-as-Hell noodles.

_Fuck you too, buddy,_ her voice chimed in his head.

‘Don’t fucking _do_ that!’ he said loudly.

_Shh, there are children in the store, Steve._

_You know, I actually hate you sometimes._

_You’re not allowed to hate me, I practically raised you._

Steve narrowed his eyes. _You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off right now._

 

* * *

 

After Steve’s parents were killed, he didn’t know where to go. Everyone he had known had died at the hands of those hunters, and the only reason Steve didn’t as well was because he was out in the woods practising some elemental magic. When he came back, his village had been destroyed, there was a pile of burning bodies, and hunters were in the process of ripping down his house. He had glanced to the bodies, seeing the face of his mother amongst them, and remembered what she had always said.

_“If we are ever discovered, you must run. As far away as you can. Go to the coast. Help will find you.”_

Steve had taken a last look around the place he called home, and he had left before anyone saw him. It hadn’t really made much difference, because he was being followed within the hour, despite that he had taken every precaution he had been able to.

It had taken Steve weeks – or maybe months, he lost track of time – to get the hunters off his tail, apparently deciding their time was better spent trying to find others who were less slippery. By the time Steve reached the coast, he was exhausted, and was close to giving up. He hadn’t had the opportunity to properly grieve for his family and friends, and it felt like everything was catching up to him all at once.

Steve sat on a beach for three days. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, and all his energy went into keeping up his shields to block anyone from seeing him. He had learnt that lesson the hard way a few days into his journey, when a carriage of travellers came upon him and reported him to the local authorities. There may have been no such thing as the internet or _phones_ back in those days, but word got around.

Steve was probably a couple of hours away from completely blacking out when _she_ came.

Her dress was long, with beautifully embroidered sleeves and hems, and a pattern of dainty white flowers on the dark blue fabric. Her red hair was piled elegantly on top of her head, and blue gems to match the blue dress sparkled in her ears and at her throat. She walked so calmly in Steve’s direction, he thought she would just walk past, like many others had done the last few days.

To his surprise, she stopped right beside him, delicately pulling off one of the lace gloves on her hands. She held it out to him and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Steve looked at her warily, but extended his hand and clasped hers gently. Strength flooded back into his body – his eyesight became clearer, he no longer felt weak, and as he tested his shields, they boosted to a strength he had never been able to achieve himself. Steve stood and took his hand back, still unsure who this woman was, though it was undoubtedly the help his mother had promised him.

‘You must be Steven,’ she said with a smile. ‘My name is Natasha.’

Steve blinked at her. ‘Who are you?’

‘That seems like a bit of a redundant question, Steven. You should be able to figure it out.’

‘You’re a witch, but you’re…’

‘Old.’ Natasha nodded and put her glove back on. ‘Very old. I would rather not talk about it.’

‘Are you…’ Steve frowned. _What is she?_

‘ _She_ is going to help you and finish your training and education,’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘It was a deal I made with your mother, after she saved my life.’

‘Oh,’ Steve said. ‘When did –’

‘Another time. For now, you need to eat. And bathe.’

 

* * *

 

Steve sighed as he locked up the shop after the last customer, so he could stay behind and tend to some of the plants. His day had been quiet and boring after the guy with the nice butt had left.

‘Still thinking about the booty, huh? I don’t even need to go into your head to know you’re moping about the ass that got away,’ Nat said, from where she was standing with the agapanthuses, weaving a little magic into the drooping ones, healing their cells and strengthening them. ‘Sorry, beat you to these guys.’

‘Better you than me,’ Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘Your energy reserves are insane.’

Nat turned and winked at him. ‘Perks of being old as fuck, my padawan.’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Anything else need a bit of love?’

Natasha shook her head. ‘Nope. You can head home if you want, I’ve got everything under control.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yeah, go home to your cats.’

‘Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she nodded. ‘And you’re on candle duty, sorry.’

‘What do you have against making candles?’

‘It was all I did for the first few decades of my life, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m bored of them.’

Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘The first few? How long ago was that again?’

‘You’re such a little shit,’ Natasha said, turning back to the plants. ‘I’m paying you to do it, so you might as well.’

‘Yeah, but –’

‘I’ll let you know if your boyfriend turns up.’

Steve huffed. ‘Fine. See you tomorrow.’

As Steve left, heading for the back door of the shop to get to the alley where his bike was parked, Natasha called out behind him. ‘I like how you’re still not denying he’s your boyfriend!’

‘He’s _not_ my boyfriend!’ Steve called back. ‘I don’t even know his name!’

‘He’ll come back and then you will!’

 

* * *

 

Steve had always hated how Nat did this… _thing._ She wove her way into people’s head, going through their secrets, like an open filing cabinet, picking and choosing the best stuff to take out and use. _Steve_ had built up a tolerance for it, getting better at recognising when she had slipped into his mind, even though most of the time it was by accident, and then kicking her out. Or going into _her_ mind, despite that he was only able to breach the very edge, so it was more of an annoyance, like a tickle in the back of her throat, rather than anything serious.

However, Steve had to admit that Nat’s ability to do it came in handy sometimes. Call it manipulation, but it allowed them to more accurately pick and choose items to sell their customers, being able to tell who would be more willing to spend a bit more money, and who might actually like something custom made, like a set of votive candles in a particular scent or whatever.

It made them very popular with people, and some went away exclaiming, _“You read my mind!”_ which, well, wasn’t entirely false.

_Hey Steve_ , Natasha’s voice floated into his head, as he was packing up the last of his newest batch of candles. _Your boyfriend is here._

Steve stopped and poked his head out of the work room and towards the shop floor. _Why is he here?_ he asked.

_Not sure._

That sparked a bit of worry in Steve. _What the fuck does that mean?!_

_It means he’s a bit… difficult._ Natasha’s frustration was made clear by the spike in her energy, temporarily invading Steve’s own feelings, before the vibes coming off her were decidedly smug. _Go help him, he’s looking for another Mother’s Day gift._

_You sure?_

_Yeah, he’s using it as an excuse._

Steve sighed and checked himself in the reflection of one of the pots hanging from a rail above the sink. Well, it would do. He boosted the glamour on his tattoos, and headed onto the floor, off to find his… not-boyfriend.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, coming up behind the familiar head of dark hair. ‘What brings you back so soon?’

The guy (he really needed to find out his name, dammit) turned from the row of bouquets and grinned at him. ‘Hey there. I was looking for something else for my Mom. I decided what I got wouldn’t be enough.’

‘Aha,’ Steve nodded. ‘What else do you want to get her?’

‘Isn’t it your job to make suggestions?’

‘I suppose it is. What is she into? Reading, gardening, knitting..?’

‘Uh… gardening? I guess? She likes to cook as well.’

‘Hmm. You could get her something _useful_ then, like maybe some tools or gardener’s salve?’ Steve said, heading towards the garden giftware. ‘You could also get her some seeds or a decorative solar light?’

‘Would you buy _your_ mom seeds and solar lights?’

‘Yeah, I used to give her seeds all the time. She loved growing things,’ Steve shrugged. ‘It feels like more of an accomplishment when you start with the seed and watch it grow into an actual plant.’

_Steve,_ Nat’s voice whispered in his head. _You’re totally bombing._

_Shut up!_

‘I’m sorry?’ the guy asked.

‘Sorry what?’

‘You just told me to shut up. I didn’t even say anything.’

_Fuck._ ‘Oh, sorry. Talking to myself,’ Steve said awkwardly. ‘Uh, if she likes cooking as well, you could buy her some herb plants?’

‘Interesting,’ the guy said. ‘What have you got?’

‘What are you _after_?’

‘She likes thyme, rosemary, basil. That sort of thing.’

‘We have all of those,’ Steve said, now going outside towards the edible plants. ‘I actually just made a new batch of basil and mandarin scented candles, if you feel like you want something more adventurous than vanilla and rose.’

_Steve,_ Nat said again. _Totally bombing. Ask him out!_

_Go away!_ he said back, watching as the customer picked out plants, apparently a lot more comfortable with them than the agapanthuses.

‘Basil and mandarin is an interesting combination,’ the guy said, turning back to Steve with a basil plant in one hand, and a mint one in the other.

‘Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,’ Steve shrugged.

‘Hmm. Screw it, I’ll take one of those as well.’

Steve grinned. ‘What size?’

The guy sighed. ‘Biggest.’

‘Okay, I just need to get one from the back,’ Steve said, now going to the work room and plucking one of the packaged candles from the bench, and meeting the guy over at the counter.

‘Super fresh candle, huh?’ he asked.

‘Mhmm, I’ve been having a great time with them,’ Steve said, ringing up the items.

_Ask him for his number or I will!_ Natasha’s voice whispered.

Steve glared across the shop at her, where she was arranging a display of orchids. _Stop it._

Natasha shrugged. _Dat ass, though._

_I swear to God, Nat._

_You don’t believe in God._

Steve narrowed his eyes. _I swear on the deities I_ do _believe in._

Natasha rolled her eyes and went back to her plants.

Steve picked up the cash the guy had put on the counter and sorted out his change. ‘So, while you’re still here, is there anything else I can help you with?’

‘Well, there is one thing I was hoping you could get me…’ he said, looking up from his wallet with a gleam in his eye. ‘Your number, maybe?’

Steve blinked. ‘My number?’

_Hallelujah, the boy has taste!_ Nat whooped triumphantly, giving him a thumbs up from the other side of the shop.

‘Yeah, your number. If you want.’

‘I…’ Steve huffed. ‘Yeah, sure.’

The guy grinned and handed Steve his phone to add his number. ‘I should probably introduce myself. Bucky Barnes.’

‘Steve Rogers,’ Steve smiled, giving back Bucky’s phone. ‘Good to meet you, I guess?’

‘You too,’ Bucky grinned. ‘I gotta go but I’ll let you know the verdict on the basil and mandarin.’

‘Please do, though we haven’t had any complaints so far.’

Bucky laughed and saluted Steve as he exited the shop, Steve watching as he walked off down the street.

‘Dat ass, right?’ Nat said, appearing by Steve’s elbow. ‘Did you get his number?’

‘No, but he –’ Steve was cut off by his phone going off with a text.

 

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _i gotta be honest – i actually just came to the shop to see u_

‘Well, shit,’ Nat said.

‘Shit,’ Steve repeated. ‘What do I say?’

‘Let me,’ Nat offered, taking his phone for a few seconds, then handing it back.

 

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _im glad ;) didn’t get enough time to check out dat ass yesterday_

‘I cannot believe you,’ Steve shook his head in utter resignation. ‘I have to tell him that was you.’

‘Or do you?’

 

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _maybe we should go on a date sometime soon and u can check it out again ;)_

‘You’re welcome,’ Natasha said with a shrug, as she went back to her orchids, leaving Steve to deal with it by himself.

 

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _i'm sorry, that was my boss._

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _…so u didn’t mean it?_

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _oh no definitely meant it, i just like to think i have more tact than that._

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _a date then?? free saturday??_

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _working until 6. dinner?_

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _i can cook if u wanna come to my place??? or we can go out?? up to u_

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _i don’t want to be a hassle. we can just go out? there’s a diner just down from the shop that does good burgers?_

**_Text: [Unknown]  
_ ** _i'll meet you there just after 6?_

**_Sent: [Unknown]  
_ ** _sounds good :)_

‘Steve, I love you, but I’m not paying you to text,’ Natasha said, as Steve walked past her into the work room.

Steve glanced up at her from his phone. ‘I’m not texting, what do you mean?’

‘Hilarious. Have you at least got a date with ass-man?’

‘His name is Bucky,’ Steve said, not bothering to address the _ass-man_ comment. ‘And yeah, on Saturday after work.’

Nat raised her eyebrows. ‘After work?’

‘Yeah, we’re gonna go to the diner with the good burgers.’

‘You know I’m not letting you off early so you can get ready. Any other time I would, but not the day before Mother’s Day.’

‘I know,’ Steve grinned. ‘You know I have magic for that, right?’

Natasha blinked. ‘You would waste energy on cleaning for a date.’

‘Probably.’

‘Did I teach you _nothing_?’

Steve shrugged. ‘It saves time. I don’t know. Maybe I won’t have time.’

‘It would be kinda weird if you told him “right after work” and you turn up all freshly cleaned and laundered.’

‘Hmm,’ Steve glanced up at the sight of something waving in the distance. ‘There’s a customer trying to get your attention. I’ll get started on another batch of rose and vanilla candles.’

‘Good idea. I think we’re down to three,’ Nat said.

Steve glared darkly at his workbench. ‘People are so creative with Mother’s Day gifts.’

 

* * *

 

At 6pm on Saturday evening, the last thing Steve wanted to do was go on a date. He was tired, he was pissed off at all the people who had left their gift shopping to the last moment (literally – there were still four people in store at closing time, two of whom needed help choosing gifts), and all Steve wanted to do was go home and nap on his couch for a while. He was moments away from getting out his phone to cancel his date, when Nat appeared in his peripheral vision.

‘You’re crashing, aren’t you?’ she asked, standing in the doorway to the office, with her arms crossed over her chest.

Steve nodded. ‘I just want to nap.’

‘Come here.’

Steve sighed and swung his bag onto his shoulder, dutifully trudging towards her. ‘What.’

‘I am not letting you throw away this fant- _ass_ -tic opportunity.’ Natasha put her hands on his shoulders, her thumbs brushing the sides of his throat. ‘Relax.’

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it equally as slowly. As he continued to breathe in and out, Steve felt himself gain a new energy, a foreign energy that settled itself onto his bones and wove through his cells. He recognised the distinct feel of _Natasha_ as his energy levels started to rise, and the need to sleep lessen.

Natasha removed her hands and the feeling faded, but the strength remained. ‘Better?’

Steve nodded. ‘Thanks. You good?’

‘Old as fuck, remember?’ she smiled. ‘I could fill you with enough energy for you to fly to the top of the Empire State building without needing to stop for air.’

‘I can’t even fly in the first place.’

‘Exactly,’ she winked. ‘Go see ass-man. Send me pics of the booty as a thank you for putting your dinner on my tab.’

‘Nat, no.’

‘Nat, _yes_ ,’ she said, slapping him on the ass as he left the office.

‘That’s sexual harassment of an employee!’ he called, flipping her off over his shoulder. He left the shop, listening to Nat cackling behind him, and went down the street towards the diner he and Bucky had picked for their date.

It was a short walk, and the air was warm, swirling around him as the gentle breeze breathed a bit more life into him. He arrived at the diner, spotting Bucky through the window, sitting in a booth with a menu up in front of him.

Steve smiled as he opened the door, heading towards his date. ‘Hey,’ he greeted, sliding into the booth opposite him. ‘Sorry I’m a bit later than expected.’

Bucky looked up and shut his menu, a smile gracing his own face. ‘It’s okay, I haven’t been here that long.’ His eyes flicked down over Steve quickly, before returning to his face. ‘I like this shirt on you.’

Steve fought the blush creeping up his cheeks. He had picked the first shirt he saw that morning, already running late because his alarm didn’t go off, and his cats had nearly tripped him up in the hall, so he had turned up at work in a short sleeved, white V-neck t-shirt. The ladies in store had _loved_ it, and while Steve was not self-conscious at the _worst_ of times, it had made him feel like a piece of meat the way they looked at him. Bucky didn’t make him feel like that. Bucky made him feel… _appreciated_. Admired.

Steve coughed lightly and picked up a menu, boosting the glamour that covered his tattoos a bit more. Some of them were just for decorative purposes, so he let them stay on his skin for the world to see.

‘So, what are you thinking of having?’ he asked, changing the subject, and receiving a short laugh from Bucky for his efforts.

‘You said good burgers here, right?’

‘Yeah, really good,’ Steve nodded. ‘There’s the bacon cheeseburger that’s pretty tasty. There’s a bacon _and_ _mushroom_ cheeseburger, which is even better.’

‘Not that big on mushrooms,’ Bucky hummed. ‘I didn’t peg you as much of a greasy burger type.’

Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘Why not? They’re the best kind.’

‘You’re so…’ Bucky trailed off, gesturing at him. ‘Look at you.’

‘I don’t eat burgers every day. Besides, I’m special. Burgers don’t affect me,’ Steve shrugged.

‘Lucky,’ Bucky sighed. ‘Fine. Burgers it is.’

Steve laughed. ‘And a milkshake.’

‘Fuck it, why not,’ Bucky said, shutting his menu as a waitress arrived at their table.

‘Heya, Steve,’ she grinned. ‘What can I getcha today?’

‘The usual, please.’

‘And for your friend..?’

‘Bacon cheeseburger and a vanilla milkshake,’ Bucky smiled. ‘Please.’

‘Sure thing,’ she nodded. ‘I’ll be back soon with your food.’

As she left for the kitchen, Steve shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you.’

‘What?’

‘ _Vanilla_?’

‘Obviously. What do you get?’

‘Strawberry. It’s the only acceptable flavour.’

‘Sure, uh huh,’ Bucky rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. ‘How was work?’

‘Ugh,’ Steve groaned and resisted the urge to slam his head onto the table. ‘Who leaves their shopping for the day before, right as the store they want is closing? We had two people needing assistance after we had already done the final sale call.’

‘Seriously? Did you still serve them?’

‘They wanted like six huge candles, we kinda had to. That’s my entire day’s pay coming from their pocket,’ Steve sighed deeply. ‘But Natasha always gives me a bonus after holidays, so it’s fine.’

‘Natasha?’

‘Yeah, my boss. The redhead who runs around like she owns the place? She actually _does_ own the place.’

Bucky nodded. ‘Yeah, I saw her the other day. She sent me the text about my ass, right?’

‘Oh,’ the waitress said, coming back with their food on a tray. ‘Sorry.’

Bucky glanced up and gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry, didn’t realise you were there.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, putting their stuff on the table. ‘It’s fun gossiping in the kitchens about what we hear.’

‘Could you put this on Nat’s tab?’ Steve asked, popping a fry in his mouth.

‘Absolutely. Does she know it’s on there?’

‘She offered, so I would hope so.’

‘Okay, cool. Enjoy the food,’ she smiled, leaving the table again.

‘Your boss offered to pay for dinner?’ Bucky asked incredulously. ‘Nice boss.’

‘She’s also my best friend,’ Steve shrugged. ‘And she has a lot more money than I do, so I think it’s the least she can do for sending you that text about your ass.’

‘Even though you agreed with her.’

Steve looked up from his plate and grinned. ‘Even though I agreed.’

Bucky laughed. ‘Well, either way, free food is the best kind.’

Steve grinned, seeing his smile mirrored on the other man, and he couldn’t help thinking he was already in love with the little crinkles around his eyes when he laughed. ‘So how was your day? Get up to much?’

‘Not really, just wrapped those gifts,’ Bucky shrugged.

‘How did that go?’

‘Used nearly two full rolls of tape, so… really good. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.’

‘I wish I could see her face,’ Steve sighed, shaking his head in mock sadness.

‘I’ll video it for you,’ Bucky winked.

Steve’s face split into another smile as he watched Bucky blush slightly at the assumption they would see each other again after this date.

He couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

‘Fuck,’ Steve breathed, kicking his door shut and dropping all his stuff on the floor in his rush to get his hands back on Bucky. ‘So good.’

‘Huh?’ Bucky asked, pushing Steve’s jacket off his shoulders and grabbing the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over Steve’s head.

‘Your ass,’ Steve explained, grabbing it with one hand and working the other up under Bucky’s Henley. ‘It’s so good.’

Bucky laughed and removed his own shirt, eagerly pressing his chest against Steve’s. ‘I love –’ he gasped as Steve scraped his teeth down the side of his throat. ‘Jesus.’

‘You love Jesus?’ Steve asked, mumbling into Bucky’s skin as his mouth continued its descent. ‘Do we need to save some room for him? Dance with a balloon between us so we don’t touch naughty parts?’

‘Fuck you,’ Bucky said, raking his nails down Steve’s back. ‘I was _gonna_ say I love a good squat.’

‘Oh, I can _tell_ ,’ Steve laughed, pushing Bucky back against the wall beside his door, and trailing his hands down Bucky’s chest as he reached around to grab Bucky’s thighs, bringing them up around his hips and humming as Bucky tightened them, keeping himself up against the door with hardly any effort.

‘You gonna fuck me right here?’

‘I could,’ Steve said, biting Bucky’s shoulder. ‘But I have a peep hole and nosy neighbours.’

‘Bedroom?’

‘Bedroom.’

 

* * *

 

‘So…’ Bucky yawned, lolling his head to the side and smiling dopily at Steve beside him on the bed. ‘That was pretty good.’

‘Pretty good?’ Steve laughed. ‘It’s been a while, so I’m sorry.’

‘Nah,’ Bucky rolled on his chest and crossed his arms, resting his chin on them. ‘We can keep practising, if you want.’

‘Right now? You’re gonna have to give me a moment to recover.’

Bucky snickered and leaned over to press a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. ‘Not right now. If you want to… y’know. Date.’

‘Date?’ Steve repeated. ‘Like as boyfriends?’

‘Well… yeah.’

Steve took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He swore he had just had a conversation like this with Natasha a couple of weeks ago. Maybe not _exactly_ like this, but how he didn’t want to get too attached to things if a hunter came for him. Pets you could take with you. Jobs and houses you could abandon. People… people remembered. Steve had needed to wipe memories one too many times, and he didn’t want to have to do it to someone else, because if he ever came back, and he passed Bucky on the street…

Bucky wouldn’t know him. There was no way to recover his memories. Once they were gone, they were gone, and he would just look at Steve like he vaguely knew him from somewhere, then look away, because _no, that wasn’t possible_. It was a horrible feeling, and Steve wanted to avoid it if he could. He didn’t mind being alone. If Steve needed to find someone to fuck, he could go to a club and find an eager and willing participant for the grimy bathroom stalls.

Steve was better off alone. He had been alone so long, he didn’t even know how to have a relationship anymore.

What had Nat said? _“Just do it. You never know if you don’t try in the first place.”_

Maybe Steve was tired of being alone. Maybe he should take her advice and just say _fuck it_. Fuck the consequences. It had been so long since a hunter had come for him, he doubted they would now. So, Steve made maybe one of the worst decisions he could’ve.

‘Steve?’ Bucky prompted, a hint of self-consciousness and fear edging into his voice at Steve’s hesitance. ‘You’re kind of meant to give me an answer, here.’

‘Sorry,’ Steve said softly. ‘Just got stuck in my own head for a second there.’

‘It’s okay. What do you think? Wanna date?’

Steve looked over and let a small smile play on his lips as he took Nat’s advice. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I’d like that.’


	2. Crossfire

‘Oh, you definitely got laid yesterday,’ Natasha said, as Steve walked into her apartment. ‘You got laid _good_.’

Steve smiled and sighed happily. ‘He left this morning. We went twice yesterday night. This morning at like two, and again when we woke up.’

‘You’re completely fucked out, aren’t you?’

‘Mhmm,’ Steve nodded. ‘It’s so great.’

‘And you’re going to be absolutely no use today?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Ugh,’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘I need to find someone to do that to me.’

‘Have you asked Clint yet?’

‘The chocolate man?’

‘Yeah, you totally have a thing for him,’ Steve said, dropping onto her couch and making kissy noises at her cat as it walked past. ‘He’d say yes if you asked.’

‘How do you know?’ she asked narrowing her eyes at him. ‘Did you go into his head?’

Steve shrugged. ‘Accidentally. How didn’t you? He was overwhelmed with emotion, quite literally. It pulled me in.’

‘Steve!’ she squeaked. ‘We’ve talked about not going in the heads of people the other has a crush on!’

‘So you _do_ like him?’

Natasha’s mouth snapped closed and she went back to the plants on her bench. ‘Shut up.’

‘Seriously, you should ask him out. He’d like it.’

‘I’m –’ Nat sighed and turned to stare at him. ‘I’m trying. Can we move on? Please?’

‘Fine. What are we doing today?’

‘Well, I was gonna skip the boring stuff and thought we could just hang out? It’s Mother’s Day after all, so it’s kind of just a family day.’

‘Sounds good,’ Steve nodded. ‘I got you something, by the way.’

‘Why?’

‘You stepped in and took the place of my mother, even though you’re… y’know. Not my mother. Or a mother figure. You’re my best friend, but you’re also my mentor and a pretty damn good one at that, so it’s… I guess it’s more of a _“thank you for mentoring me”_ gift, as opposed to a _“thank you for birthing me”_ gift.’ Steve rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it to Nat. ‘It’s not much.’

‘You didn’t need to get me anything,’ Natasha said, as she opened the pouch and a thin chain and pendant poured into her hand. ‘It’s beautiful, Steve.’

‘It’s an opal,’ Steve said, blushing slightly. ‘I know you know that, but I sort of enchanted that one so you could change the colour if you wanted, so it could match your outfit.’

Natasha laughed. ‘Very thoughtful. Thank you.’

‘It’s, uh. It’s also like of an energy reserve, of sorts,’ Steve continued, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘I charmed it so in case of emergency, and your energy reserves _somehow_ manage to empty, you can draw on mine through that, no matter where we are, or what time it is.’

‘Oh,’ Natasha said softly, gripping it tightly for a second, before slipping it around her neck. ‘Seems like we had similar ideas.’

‘Huh?’ Steve asked, watching Nat as she disappeared quickly down the hallway and came back with a small pouch, which she dropped in Steve’s hands as she sat beside him. He opened the pouch and drew out a chain, with a pendant attached as well – a silver disk instead of a gem. ‘Nat, is this..?’

‘The same basic concept, yeah. You can draw on me if you need, no matter when or where,’ she huffed. ‘I don’t think it’ll be as noticeable to me as it will be to you.’

‘Probably not,’ Steve grinned, dropping the chain around his neck. ‘Thanks, Nat.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she shrugged. ‘We gotta stick together, right?’

‘Right,’ Steve nodded, bumping their shoulders together. ‘Were we seriously going to do nothing today?’

‘Yeah, I kinda just want to watch stuff on Netflix today. You game?’

‘Always.’

 

* * *

 

**_Text: Mom [14:06:21]  
_ ** _Hi James, it was great seeing you yesterday! Please call asap, have a job for you xx_

**_Text: Mom [14:17:55]  
_ ** _James, please call me._

**_Text: Mom [14:30:07]  
_ ** _Bucky, you can’t turn your back on family like this. It’s important. Please call me._

**_[Incoming: Mom]_ **

Bucky rolled his eyes and sighed loudly as he answered his phone. ‘What.’

‘James, we have a job for you,’ Bucky’s mom’s voice came clearly through the phone. ‘It’s important you come see me to pick up the file.’

‘I don’t do that anymore,’ Bucky said flatly. ‘I’ve asked you not to talk to me about it.’

‘You are a Barnes child, you will do as you are told.’

‘Mom, I’m not going to do it. I’ve tried to build a bridge, but I’m going to stop being nice about it if you don’t leave me alone. Get Becca do it.’

‘Your sister is busy. She’s working another case. You need to pick this one up. It’s important.’

‘Everything is “important” to you,’ Bucky said, standing up from where he had been lying on his couch. He walked over to the window and glanced up to the clouds. It looked like it would rain soon. ‘I’m not doing it.’

Winifred let out a level breath. ‘Fine. I’ll make you a deal.’

‘A deal.’

‘Take this case, and I won’t make you take any more after it.’

Bucky perked up and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m listening.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky wouldn’t exactly say he’d had an easy childhood. He was taken out of school when he was eight, and home-schooled the rest of the way through his education, so his parents could add some elements to the curriculum that weren’t taught in a public, or private, institute.

It started with the knives. Swords. Weeks in the woods where his parents taught him and Becca how to track and hunt. How to taste the air, extend their senses, and find other traces of their prey in the air particles, in the dirt.

When Bucky turned twelve, his father gave him a bow, and a quiver of arrows. When he turned thirteen, he got a crossbow, and on his fourteenth birthday, his dad took him shooting for the first time. He lined up cans, and Bucky picked them off, one by one.

By the time Bucky turned eighteen, he had completed high school, and the training his parents provided to become a ruthless killer. Bucky could’ve joined the armed forces, he could’ve become a chef, or a mercenary, a vet, or a doctor. But what Bucky did was an ancient, and much lesser practiced profession. He used his skills to hunt witches.

And he did, for almost ten years. He got the runes to enhance his sensitivity to magical tracks and people, and numerous other tattoos that would make him a more effective assassin. Worst of all, Bucky _enjoyed_ it – the thrill of finding someone who had covered their tracks well, but not well enough. The rush that came with feeling their life force ebbing away, because he could. He could feel when someone died.

Bucky never expected that he would grow tired of it.

He knew, however, _deep down_ , that this wasn’t what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t right. None of these people – of these _witches_ – had done anything that required a bullet through their brain, or an arrow through their heart, or to be victim to Bucky manipulating the elements just enough that they suffocated while he sat a distance away and watched. Bucky didn’t want to do it. He’d had enough, and told his parents as such.

They didn’t speak for almost five months. And Bucky loved every minute of it. Now he had the opportunity to go on one last hunt, to feel the overwhelming disgust one last time, and to keep his family after he left the trade for good.

This was Bucky’s last shot to live happily, and fuck, he was going to take it.

 

* * *

 

‘So I was wondering if you had any more of those weird candles?’

Steve grinned and turned around to see Bucky leaning against the doorway to the workshop, ever present sunglasses propped up in his hair. ‘Hey,’ Steve greeted, wiping his hands on the towel on the bench beside him and going over to peck Bucky’s lips quickly. ‘What brings you here?’

‘The candles,’ Bucky repeated.

‘Oh, seriously?’

‘Yeah, I didn’t actually give those ones to my mom,’ Bucky shrugged. ‘What were they?’

‘Mandarin and basil?’

Bucky nodded. ‘Those. Weird, but good.’

‘I told you,’ Steve said triumphantly, leading the way out to the shop floor and finding the candles for Bucky. ‘What size? I can get you discount now.’

‘Oh really? Give me the big one.’

Steve laughed and plucked one off the shelf. ‘Are you busy later?’

‘Mm… no. I am free. For you. What’s up?’

‘If you come around at like seven, I can have dinner made? You can meet my cats.’

‘I would love to meet your cats,’ Bucky smiled. ‘We’ve been dating like two weeks, and I haven’t seen them yet. You haven’t even shown me pictures on your phone, even though you talk about them constantly.’

‘He hasn’t shown you pictures?’ Natasha interrupted, walking behind them to put a few bath bombs from the new batch onto the shelf beside the candles. ‘Steve, I’m disappointed in you.’

‘He’s shown me pictures of _your_ cat,’ Bucky said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I’m beginning to think he’s making his up.’

‘Oh no, he definitely isn’t. They’re… what do you call them, Steve?’

‘Assholes?’ Steve supplied helpfully.

‘Skittish,’ Natasha said, ignoring him and answering her own question. ‘Steve got them a cat tree with a little house in it and I don’t think they’ve ever left it.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, your cat is very cute,’ Bucky offered. ‘I would very much like to pat her.’

‘She would very much like to receive your pats. Steve, bring Bucky on Sunday. He can meet Val.’

‘Val?’ Bucky repeated. ‘Like Val Kilmer?’

‘Like Valkyrie,’ Natasha grinned. ‘She’s a fighter.’

‘Oh, right. Cool.’

‘Mm… she’s a bit of a dick sometimes. She was literally feral when I got her. Have you ever domesticated a feral kitten, Bucky?’

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘Yeah, it’s definitely an experience,’ Natasha said, shaking her head and turning to head back to the storeroom for more bath bombs.

‘I was there when she got Val,’ Steve murmured. ‘She’s still got the scars from her teeny tiny claws.’

‘Wow.’

‘Mm.’

‘Uh, so, dinner?’

‘Right,’ Steve nodded. ‘Dinner. What do you feel like?

‘The million dollar question,’ Bucky hummed. ‘How are you with Italian?’

‘I am great with Italian.’

‘Pizza?’

‘Uh…’ Steve blinked. ‘Sure. I can make pizza.’

‘Great!’ Bucky grinned. ‘I have a few things to do before then, so I’m gonna pay for these, and I’ll see you later, yeah?’

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Steve nodded, leading them to the counter. ‘Anything in particular you don’t like on pizza?’

‘Pineapple. That’s about it.’

‘A man after my own heart,’ Steve sighed dramatically, as he tapped in Bucky’s discount to the computer and put through the transaction, giving Bucky his change back, as he slipped the candles into a bag.

‘Do you want me to bring anything?’

‘You can bring cat treats if you want?’ Steve suggested. ‘My cats will love you.’

‘Okay, I’ll do that.’

‘No catnip though. I feel weird giving them drugs.’

Bucky laughed. ‘No catnip, got it. See you later,’ he said, leaning over and kissing Steve quickly.

‘Bye,’ Steve smiled, watching him leave, with a small sigh.

‘You’re so thirsty, Jesus,’ Natasha commented, appearing from nowhere beside him. ‘Can’t let him walk out the door without objectifying him.’

‘I’m not objectifying him.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘He’s my boyfriend.’

‘So?’

‘So, it’s not objectifying him if _I_ do it. When people come in the store and ogle us, _that_ is objectifying.’

Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘Sure, whatever.’

‘You’re a dick,’ Steve called, as Natasha went away again.

‘Yep, and you’re a pervert!’ she replied.

Steve was glad the shop was empty.

 

* * *

 

‘You have to be nice, okay? You need to be polite and refined hosts, and absolutely _no_ scratching or biting Bucky. Understand?’

Steve’s cats blinked at him, and jumped off the bench, heading back to their cat tree. ‘I’ll take that as a yes!’ he called, rolling his eyes as he opened the oven to check on the pizzas he had made for himself and Bucky. They were going nicely, with the cheese just starting to melt, and the faint smell of the crust baking beginning to waft out.

There was a knock on the front door, and Steve grinned, shutting the oven again and walking the brief distance to open it. ‘Hey,’ he greeted, gesturing for Bucky to come inside.

‘Hi,’ Bucky smiled, handing him a small bag. ‘I got some cat treats. And desert. Sorry if you had something planned.’

‘Nope, no plans. Mostly just the chocolate sauce I have in my fridge, and maybe your abs as a plate, but no concrete plans.’

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking interested at the suggestion. ‘I mean, we could definitely do that, don’t get me wrong, but I thought maybe “coconut milk frozen desert” and apple pie would be safe.’

‘Ooh, sounds good, actually.’

‘It should probably go in your freezer or something…’ Bucky hinted.

‘Oh! Shit, right.’ Steve blushed and went to his kitchen, hearing Bucky trail behind after a few moments.

‘It smells good in here,’ Bucky said, leaning against the side of the bench. ‘Is that our pizza?’

‘Yep. Well. _Pizzas_. I made two,’ Steve shrugged, going into the bag and digging out the apple pie and ice cream to put in the freezer so it didn’t melt. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered, sifting his hands through the multitude of bags of cat treats. ‘Did you buy the whole store?’

Bucky grinned. ‘I’m trying to make a good impression on them.’

‘If you’re not careful, you’ll leave with two cats, the way you’re going,’ Steve laughed, putting most of the bags into the designated cat treat basket in his cupboard, and opening a pack of them, shaking them to call his cats.

‘You’re gonna give them treats _now_?’

‘Why not?’ Steve asked, as the tell-tale noise of tiny feet stampeding towards them started up, accompanied by a chorus of meows.

‘Oh my god,’ Bucky murmured, as two balls of black fur hurtled towards the kitchen and jumped onto the bench. ‘How do you tell them apart?’

Steve grinned. ‘Hazel is completely black, but Birch has white feet.’

Bucky frowned and looked at the cat paws in front of him. ‘Oh.’

‘Do you wanna feed them?’ Steve asked, holding out the bag of treats.

‘Sure,’ Bucky said, letting Steve shake some into his palm.

‘Be careful of Hazel, though. She’ll just –’

‘Ouch,’ Bucky hissed.

‘– sink her teeth into your hand. Birch always uses his gentle teethies, though, huh?’ Steve said, speaking in a baby tone to his cat, and scratching him behind the ears, as the cat arched up and pushed his head into Steve’s hand.

‘You’re such a dork,’ Bucky shook his head and tipped a few more treats into his hand for Birch. ‘Am I allowed to push…’

‘Hazel?’

‘Am I allowed to push Hazel away? She ate all the last ones.’

Steve nodded. ‘Yeah, she’s a bit of a greedy little shit,’ he said, picking up Hazel and giving her long strokes down her back, as she leaned backwards over his arm, trying to get her head near the treats in Bucky’s hand.

‘They’re like your children, aren’t they?’

‘Mm… We’re kinda just buddies.’

‘Right,’ Bucky smiled, giving Steve back the bag of treats and patting Birch, who headbutted his hand when he moved to go and wash the cat saliva off them. ‘Sorry, pal, I think our pizzas are almost done.’

The cat meowed and jumped off the bench, followed by his sister, who struggled her way from Steve’s arms.

‘Pizza time?’ Bucky asked hopefully.

Steve huffed and brushed the small amount of cat fur clinging to his shirt off and nodded. ‘Yeah. Pizza time.’

 

* * *

 

‘Can I ask you something?’ Bucky asked later that night, as they were sitting plonked on the couch, apple pie in hand, and Netflix playing some random movie on the TV in front of them.

‘Go for it,’ Steve said, pushing the back of his spoon into a few stray crumbs and licking them off.

‘Why did you hesitate when I asked if you wanted to date?’ Bucky tried to keep his tone light, but he couldn’t keep an edge of hurt from appearing.

Steve frowned and looked to his plate, letting his spoon drop from his hand with a gentle _clink_ against the ceramic. ‘Because I didn’t know what to say.’

‘Were you going to turn me down?’ Bucky asked softly, insecure.

Steve shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Are you glad you didn’t?’

‘I don’t know,’ Steve repeated. ‘I don’t have a lot of people in my life. Nat is the closest thing I have to family. It’s been just us for so long, and I’ve always been okay with that, so I guess I’m just afraid to let more people in.’

‘Because of Nat?’ Bucky asked.

‘No, because of _me_. Nat is a fixture in my life, kind of like a lamp.’

‘A lamp? I’m telling her you said that,’ Bucky joked, trying to pull this conversation out of the deep hole he could feel it descending into.

‘No, like… I worry about her, but if something ever happens, I know she can take care of herself. I don’t want the people in my life to get hurt because of me, and if I let you in, that meant I was willing to get hurt, and let _you_ be hurt because of me, but I don’t want you to.’ Steve sighed, frustrated that his words weren’t coming out and making sense how he wanted them to. ‘What it comes down to, is that something bad always happens, and the people around me, people I care about, are in the crosshairs.’

‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ Bucky said. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ll make it through.’

‘You don’t understand, Bucky. Bad shit happens to me, and I’ve always been better off alone when it does.’

‘Steve,’ Bucky sighed softly and put his hand on Steve’s knee, rubbing it slowly to comfort him. ‘Just because you think you’re better off alone doesn’t mean it’s true. Safety in numbers, right?’

Steve snorted. ‘More victims.’

‘Victims of your love?’

‘Yeah, shot through the heart and I’m to blame,’ Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help singing it. ‘I give love a bad name.’

They glanced at each other for a beat, then erupted into fits of laughter.

 

* * *

 

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _can’t make it tomorrow – family being dicks_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _can’t get out of it?_

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _trust me, they will hunt me down and drag me there_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _no offence but i kinda hate ur fam_

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _no offence but same_

 

* * *

 

‘Bucky couldn’t come?’ Nat asked, noting it was only Steve at her door. It was Sunday, and Steve was over for his weekly session to improve on his use of magic, with help from his mentor.

‘Something came up with his family,’ Steve smiled apologetically. ‘He sends his regards.’

‘Right. Probably a good thing, actually. We’re going to work on going traceless.’

‘Why? Haven’t needed to in years.’

Natasha raised her eyebrows. ‘What happened to Paranoid Steve? Is he still in there? Or has all your paranoia been fucked out of you.’

Steve grinned. ‘Maybe a little.’

Natasha sighed. ‘Well, too bad. We’re doing this, because things are feeling a little too settled, and I don’t like it. Also, the second you stop being paranoid, someone is going to come, and you’ll be utterly _fucked_ in a different way.’

‘What about you?’

‘Steve, I _live_ traceless.’

‘That must be exhausting.’

Natasha shrugged. ‘Not particularly. Ready?’

‘Yeah, but answer me one thing.’

‘Uh huh…’

‘Do you think someone is coming for us? For me or you?’

A corner of Nat’s mouth twisted up into a half smile. ‘Would I live traceless if I didn’t?’

 

* * *

 

‘So you have absolutely nothing to go on,’ Bucky said, flipping shut the manila folder in front of him, empty except for a single page with the word _Brooklyn_ on it.

‘Not nothing,’ his mother replied, crossing her legs and folding her hands onto her knee, looking expectantly at her son. ‘There are trace amounts of magic in Brooklyn.’

‘Trace amounts mean _nothing_. You don’t even know how old they could be. You don’t know if they belong to someone who lives here, or someone just passing through. This is ridiculous.’

‘It’s defensive magic, James. I don’t think that would be someone passing through.’

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed coldly, standing up and pacing his parents’ living room. ‘You do realise that all witches use defensive magic, right? Every single one. It’s why they’re so hard to _find_.’

‘Which is why we have _you_ , honey,’ Winifred smiled. ‘You’ve always been so good at finding them.’

‘Because you taught me to be a fucking _bloodhound –_ ’

‘James, don’t curse.’

‘I will curse as much as I _fucking –_ ’ Bucky stopped midsentence, clutching his throat and glaring daggers at his mother.

‘James,’ she repeated calmly. ‘Don’t curse.’ She pinched her thumb and forefinger together and breathed out levelly. ‘You are taking this case. You will find the witch, and you will _kill_ the witch, and then we will leave you to live your life.’

‘Don’t do that again,’ Bucky said, twitching his fingers by his sides, feeling his own hints of magic aching to be used. It had been months since he’d let himself use any for something mundane, and it was like a floodgate waiting to be released. ‘Besides, with this little evidence, I am definitely not required to take it on. _You_ are required to further investigate and narrow it down. I should at least have a vague idea of the witch I’m hunting.’

‘I am not required to do anything,’ Winifred argued, standing gracefully and smoothing her hands down her shirt. ‘I am your elder, and _you_ are required to –’

Bucky growled and waved his fingers, curling them into fists as his mother stepped towards him, sparks of electricity dancing over his knuckles. ‘Don’t you dare.’

Winifred looked to her son’s hands and raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s threatening behaviour, James. I am not a witch.’

‘And I’m not a hunter anymore.’

‘You will always be a hunter,’ she laughed. ‘You bear the marks, you bear the _magic_ clearly, and you know as well as I do that you _thirst_ for it.’

‘I thirst for nothing,’ Bucky said darkly, slowly heading to the door. ‘Until you have more evidence, I’m not doing anything. I’m taking this case because we have a deal, but I’m not hunting anything with the single knowledge that there’s “trace amounts” of magic in Brooklyn.’

‘You can go on less than that. You’ve done it before.’

‘I’m not making this easier for _you_. Get me more information than _Brooklyn_ , or find yourself a new hunter.’

‘You’re the best we have, Bucky,’ his mother called to him.

Bucky stopped at the doorway and shook his head. He didn’t turn as he said, ‘I’m the best you _had_.’

 

* * *

 

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _can i come over?_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _of course :) how are your parents?_

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _being their usual douchebag selves :)_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _…oh. do you want me to pick up some dinner on the way back to mine? i'm just leaving nat’s_

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _if you have beer and leftover pizza i'm good_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _you’re in luck bc i have both_

**_Text: Bucky  
_ ** _you’re a lifesaver_

**_Sent: Bucky  
_ ** _i know right ;)_

 

* * *

 

‘I hate them,’ Bucky announced, letting himself into Steve’s apartment.

‘What did they do?’

‘They’re trying to drag me back into the family business, almost literally kicking and screaming.’

‘Why don’t you just tell them to fuck off?’ Steve asked, coming around the corner of the kitchen, two beers in one hand, and a plate of pizza in the other.

‘Yeah, I tried that,’ Bucky said, dropping onto Steve’s couch and taking one of the beers from him. ‘They’re not exactly the type of people who do as they’re asked. Especially not when it’s me doing the asking.’

‘They sound great,’ Steve said flatly. ‘Are we allowed to talk about the family business yet?’

Bucky shook his head. ‘You don’t want to hear about it, trust me.’

‘I’ve heard some pretty weird shit in my life, Bucky,’ Steve shrugged. ‘But I’m not gonna push you.’

‘Yeah, I bet you, the candle maker, have heard a lot of fucked up stuff,’ Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘Too much fragrance? Fucking _wild_.’

Steve laughed. ‘It’s a very delicate balance.’

‘Oh, I bet it is,’ Bucky grinned. ‘See, you’ve already cheered me up.’

‘Mm, I bet I could cheer _up_ a few other things?’

‘Was that supposed to be a line? It was terrible.’

‘Thank you.’

They ate the rest of the pizza in silence, with Steve pretending he didn’t see Bucky giving Hazel and Birch bits of cheese and pepperoni from the pizza. When they had finished, Bucky took Steve’s hand and pulled him towards the bedroom, nudging him onto the bed.

‘Don’t want to do anything,’ he mumbled, slipping into the bed with him. ‘Just want to sleep. My parents are draining to be around.’

‘Bucky, it’s like seven thirty.’

‘Mhmm, consider it a nap.’

‘Okay,’ Steve sighed, snuggling up behind Bucky, wrapping one of his arms around his waist.

Bucky was quiet for a few moments, trailing his fingers over Steve’s forearm. ‘We’re, um…’ Bucky started quietly. ‘We’re all kind of bounty hunters.’

‘Huh?’

‘That’s the family business,’ Bucky said. ‘We’re bounty hunters. I don’t like doing it, so I quit. My parents are trying to get me back into it.’

‘Oh,’ Steve said quietly, placing a kiss on Bucky’s shoulder. ‘Maybe you should. Just do one last one and tell them that’s it. Put your foot down.’

‘That’s what I’ve done.’

‘It can’t be that bad, can it?’

‘You have no idea,’ Bucky said, relaxing into Steve, humming contentedly. ‘Nap time now.’

‘Okay,’ Steve murmured. ‘Nap time.’

 

* * *

 

It had been bugging Steve most of the night. There were a few things about Bucky that concerned him. Not many, and not enough for him to freak out about them, but still. When Bucky had come into the shop, not the first time, maybe the second, Nat had said she had a little bit of difficulty reading him. Usually, humans were an open book for her. Occasionally there would be one person with a kind of barrier that made it harder than necessary, but she always broke through.

Like she did with Bucky, so that wasn’t so much of an issue – it could have been perfectly normal.

But then there was the fact that Steve always felt a slight… _buzz_ coming from Bucky, like he was warded. Steve didn’t know exactly what the fuck that was, but it could’ve just been that mental barrier playing in the background of Steve’s mind and making him sense things that weren’t there.

And, of course, the _H_ word. Steve would be lying if he said that hadn’t scared him a little.

‘So I’m gonna need you to talk to Sam,’ Steve said casually, cornering Nat in her office the next day.

Natasha looked up from her computer and raised an eyebrow. ‘Why might that be?’

‘I need him to look into Bucky.’

‘Why?’

‘I just…’ Steve frowned. ‘I know that rationally, my thought process is shitty, and what I’m thinking is highly unlikely, but I need him to check that Bucky is clean.’

Nat’s eyebrow went higher. ‘That Bucky is clean? What are you expecting to find?’

‘Nothing! That’s the thing, I’m expecting nothing. He just mentioned he was a bounty hunter and I’m… I don’t like it.’

‘Sam probably has better things to do than stalk your boyfriend, Steve.’

‘Probably not.’

‘He’s your friend, so you ask him.’

‘You were the one fucking him.’

‘Yeah, like a hundred and fifty years ago,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘Besides, you fucked him as well.’

‘What? I’ve never fucked Sam. We got drunk and fell asleep in the same bed, it’s different.’

‘Neither of you were wearing clothes when you woke up, and I distinctly remember him whining about being sore the next day.’

Steve opened his mouth, shut it again, and narrowed his eyes. ‘Shut up. Just ask him?’

‘Ugh,’ Natasha huffed. ‘Fine. I’ll talk to Sam.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Steve?’ she said, as he turned to leave and go back to the shop floor. ‘You know if he’s a hunter, we have to kill him.’

Steve nodded once. ‘Like I said, rationally, I know he’ll be clean. I just want to check.’

‘Yeah, okay. I’m seeing him next Saturday, so I’ll ask him then.’

‘You’re seeing Sam? Poor Clint will be destroyed.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Steve. Go do some actual work.’

 

* * *

 

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _sam says he’s clean. see you tomorrow dumbass._

**_Sent: Nat  
_ ** _thank god. see you tomorrow :)_

 

* * *

 

‘You good?’ Bucky asked, scratching between Birch’s ears as Steve came back from the kitchen, two beers and his phone in hand.

‘Hmm? Fine. Just confirming tomorrow’s lunch date with Nat,’ Steve said, sitting next to Bucky and leaning over to kiss his cheek, as Hazel jumped up beside him, rubbing her head on his knee.

‘You have lunch with Nat a lot.’

‘Yeah, neither of us have any family, so we make a point to pretend we’re related on Sundays.’

‘Huh.’

‘How’s it going with your parents?’

Bucky’s face darkened. ‘They’re pissing me off.’

‘Oh. Sorry for bringing it up.’

‘No, it’s…’ Bucky sighed. ‘They’re trying to make me take a case that has pretty much _no_ information.’

‘Isn’t the point of bounty hunting to know who you’re after?’ Steve asked.

‘Yeah, which is something they seem to have forgotten.’

‘Convenient.’

‘Mhmm. They want me to have lunch with them next week, and they’ll want to _talk_ about it, and I don’t want to, so… I don’t know if it’s too soon or what, but do you want to come with me? Next Saturday.’

‘I could, yeah. It’s been like a month or something, so it’s probably time,’ Steve smiled. ‘I’ll even plan a reward date for after.’

‘Ooh, a reward date?’

‘Yeah, I mean… we haven’t really done _date_ things, have we? Just a lot of pizza and licking abs.’

Bucky hummed. ‘True. Here I was thinking you only liked me for my ass.’

Steve laughed. ‘I mean, I do.’

Bucky rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. ‘It’s okay. At this point, I’m only dating you for your cats.’

‘They are pretty good cats,’ Steve agreed, making kissy noises at Hazel. ‘I would date me for my cats.’

‘It’s a good thing you don’t have to.’

‘I know, right?’

 

* * *

 

Steve kind of hated how Natasha insisted he was still a tiny baby in terms of his magic. He was, admittedly, not as good as she was, but he was also well over three hundred years old, so it wasn’t exactly like he was fresh out the womb, waving his arms around and yelling _“Abraca-fucking-dabra!”_ like he had that one time to piss her off.

Steve was, Nat said, at about ninety percent capacity. Whatever the fuck that meant. Either way, if he was ready to be unleashed on the world as a fully prepared and capable witch (which he _basically_ was, he just thought she was being dramatic) then he wouldn’t currently be traipsing about in the wilderness.

They were working on going traceless again, because Steve was still lacking in that skill, seeing as he rarely had to use it. Nat had decided Steve should go traceless, and she would try to find him, limiting her abilities to that of the average witch hunter.

So far, it had been four hours, and all Steve had done was end up in a tree. Very _high up_ in a tree. He had used a little elemental magic to convince a few branches to extend towards each other, allowing him to focus on them and weave them together into a more secure spot, rather than just perching on a branch like an oversized bird.

Once in his nest, Steve had taken care and effort to remove every trace of his magic that he could feel. That which he couldn’t erase, he used a handy little trick Nat had taught him to age it, so if a hunter came across it, they would feel it like it had been there for weeks, or months, not days or hours. He also went a bit further and managed to misdirect it, leading away from himself. If he was still moving, then this wouldn’t be necessary, but he was hiding from Nat until six tonight, so he wanted to keep her at bay for as long as possible.

But like, _fuck_ , this was boring.

 

* * *

 

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _okay i didn’t find you, good job. back to mine please._

**_Sent: Nat  
_ ** _see? i'm not entirely useless :)_

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _oh, no, i know you’re up that tree lmao._

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _but if i was a hunter then i wouldn’t have been able to find you._

**_Sent: Nat  
_ ** _YOU KNOW I’M UP THIS TREE???_

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _lmao yeah_

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _i'm picking up some chinese on the way back. fried rice and wontons??_

**_Sent: Nat  
_ ** _yeah :(_

 

* * *

 

‘So you didn’t find me, but you knew where I was?’ Steve asked, digging into his rice.

‘Of course I knew where you were. Just the same as I know Sam is turning the corner onto the street, Bucky is…’ she squinted for a moment. ‘Bucky is at his apartment, and Birch and Hazel are trimming the pot of basil on your bench again.’

‘Jesus,’ Steve shook his head. ‘It’s cheating to use your fucking magic radar like that.’

‘It’s not cheating. When I was younger, it was called _precaution_. Hunters were a lot more common in those days, and it was a good idea to know where they all were.’ Natasha shrugged and picked through her noodles with a sigh. ‘I can just hack everyone’s GPS now, so it’s more of a vestigial skill than anything.’

‘How old _are_ you?’

Natasha gave him a wry smile. ‘You know how you’re more or less a pagan.’

Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘Uh huh…’

‘Yeah, when I was growing up, that was a lot more common, and the gods still cared about everyone on this planet.’

‘You know how unspecific of a time that is, right?’

‘Yep,’ she said, standing and going across to her front door, opening it with a flourish. ‘Sam!’

Sam stood, paused with his hand in the air, ready to knock. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi, Sam!’ Steve greeted, waving his chopsticks in greeting. ‘Grandma here was just telling me about her magic GPS.’

Sam blinked. ‘Alright then, are we having Chinese food?’

‘ _We_ are. Nat made me sit up a tree the entire day.’

‘I didn’t _make_ you. You _decided_ to sit in a tree the entire day. I said, _“Go traceless and don’t let me find you”_ , and absolutely nothing about trees,’ she said defensively, plopping back on the couch and giving a little piece of noodle to Val, who had positioned herself on the table directly in front of Nat.

‘She told you to go traceless and you spent the day in a tree?’ Sam shook his head. ‘What kind of choice is that? Did you eat today?’

‘I spent four hours _finding_ the tree, and four hours _in_ the tree. I didn’t exactly have time to grab snacks.’

‘I told you to take snacks!’ Natasha interrupted, waving her chopsticks threateningly at Steve. ‘Don’t you blame this on me. I told him, didn’t I, Val?’ she asked her cat, who let out a loud _mrrrow_ of agreement.

Sam just shook his head as he sat on the couch with his own box of food, which he had apparently brought with him. ‘Steve, how the fuck are you still alive?’

‘Because he has me as his den mother,’ Nat said through a mouthful of food.

 

* * *

 

‘I don’t want to go,’ Bucky whined, rolling back towards Steve and nuzzling into his shoulder. ‘This was a terrible idea.’

‘What, brunch with your parents?’ Steve asked, rubbing a hand down Bucky’s back.

‘Mhmm. My parents in general were a terrible idea.’

‘But then _you_ wouldn’t be here.’

Bucky huffed into Steve’s skin and sighed. ‘Wouldn’t be a huge loss.’

‘I think it would be,’ Steve kissed his hair and craned his head backwards to check the time on his alarm clock. ‘We should get up or we’ll be late.’

‘Good.’

‘No, not good. I’m meeting your parents for the first time, and I would like to be on time.’

‘You’re such a goody two-shoes. A kiss-ass. You’re trying to kiss my parents’ asses.’

‘I’m trying to fool them into thinking I’m a good person for you to date,’ Steve replied, poking Bucky in the side. ‘Up. Shower.’

Bucky hummed, looking up to Steve. ‘What will you give me if I get up?’

‘What do you _want_?’

‘Shower sex?’

‘No time.’

Bucky pouted and sat up in the bed. ‘Normal sex?’

Steve laughed. ‘Just go to the shower. I’ll be there in a few.’

Bucky rolled his eyes, but got up and headed to the bathroom anyway, calling back, ‘If you’re not there in one minute, I’m _demanding_ shower sex as reparations.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Steve shook his head. ‘Just need to check my emails and I’m there.’

‘You’re such an adult.’

‘Yep, a responsible adult,’ Steve agreed, unlocking his phone and opening up his messages.

 

**_Text: Nat  
_ ** _i know you’re going to ask, so yes, his parents are clean as well. you'll be great :) they would be idiots not to like you._

**_Sent: Nat  
_ ** _thanks nat :)_

 

* * *

 

‘I feel like I should’ve bought some wine or something,’ Steve muttered, flexing his fingers anxiously.

‘I feel like I should’ve _had_ some wine,’ Bucky replied, grabbing one of Steve’s hands and lacing their fingers together. ‘My parents _suck_.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell them that.’

‘If you do, can you make sure it’s at the end of brunch, because they’ll make us sit through it.’

‘I’d like to see them make me do _anything_ ,’ Steve huffed.

‘Don’t underestimate them,’ Bucky said lowly, spotting his parents walking through the café towards them in the courtyard. ‘We Barneses are small but powerful.’

‘Very comforting, thank you. Should we stand..?’ Steve trailed off, preparing to get up, as Bucky’s parents came closer.

‘Absolutely not,’ Bucky said, pulling him back down by the shoulder. ‘Don’t stand, and don’t let them intimidate you.’

The thing was, Steve didn’t get nervous. He was confident in himself, and very few things scared him, but right about now, he found himself… well. Intimidated. Even though Bucky told him not to let them get to him. Too late, Bucky. Meeting the parents would never be easy or fun.

‘Bucky,’ his mother greeted, smiling warmly as she and her husband came within earshot of them. ‘Darling, you made it.’

‘Barely,’ Bucky muttered, leaning back in his chair.

‘And who’s your friend?’ she asked, ignoring her son’s defensive gesture.

‘Boyfriend,’ Bucky corrected. ‘Steve.’

‘Steve, it’s a pleasure. I’m Winifred, and this is my husband, George,’ she said, turning her attention to Steve and extending her hand.

Steve smiled, reaching out to shake her hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you,’ he said. He was going to add something about good genetics, or hearing good things about them from Bucky, but, well, one was a lie, and the other might get him into hot water with his boyfriend. Steve decided to leave it.

Winifred looked a little suspicious as she and George sat down, and Steve noticed her eyes flicking over him briefly. Whatever she saw apparently intrigued her, and Steve instinctively boosted the glamour over his tattoos, especially the runes related to magic.

‘So, Steve,’ Winifred said, pulling a menu from the stand in the centre of the table. ‘What do you do?’

‘I run a plant and gift store with my best friend,’ Steve said, following her lead of taking a menu.

‘That’s how I met Steve,’ Bucky said, his first full sentence since his parents sat down. ‘He made the candles I gave you for Mother’s Day.’

Winifred’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? They were beautiful. And those _chocolates_ were simply divine.’

‘Thank you,’ Steve smiled. ‘Though we don’t make the chocolates. My friend knows the guy who does.’

‘Oh, how lovely.’ Winifred looked like she had more to add, but then a waitress turned up at their table, notepad in hand.

‘Hi, I’m Amy, and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you?’

They spoke in turn, placing their orders, and Steve noted that Bucky ordered the most expensive item on the menu – something with a side of caviar? – even though he had told Steve in passing sometime last week that he had tried it once and hated it.

Steve bit back a laugh and flicked Bucky’s leg under the table, earning a giggle from his boyfriend. Yeah, he knew Steve knew.

_How’s it going?_ Nat’s voice floated into Steve’s head, and he looked around for her – which wasn’t hard, seeing as they were at a corner table.

_I’m not there_ , Nat continued. _I’ve got one of my friends out._

_Which friend?_ Steve asked, looking up at the tree beside them, and spotting a small bird – one of the blackbirds Natasha had tattooed on her shoulder blade. _Ah, I see you._

Steve could practically hear Nat snickering in his head. _So?_

_It’s awkward as fuck. Please go away._

Steve watched as the bird flapped its wings once, and disappeared into itself. Perks of being a witch – he and Nat both had tattoos of animals and birds that they could enchant and force from their skin, using them like scouts. That had taken Steve a couple of decades to master, but he had Nat for his teacher, so it probably took a lot less time than it would’ve without her.

‘Steve?’ Bucky asked, nudging him in the ribs. ‘You okay?’

‘Hmm?’ Steve looked down from the tree and back to the people he was with at the table. ‘Sorry.’

‘Do you feel okay? Do you need some water?’

‘No, no. I’m fine. Just daydreaming.’

‘Oh, damn,’ Bucky muttered. ‘I was hoping that would be an excuse to get us to leave early.’

‘I can fake it, if you want?’

‘It’s too late now,’ Bucky nodded to his parents, who were watching them whisper with interest.

‘Oh. Sorry,’ Steve murmured. ‘I can make something up to get us out of this, if you want?’

‘Okay, but give it until the food arrives so we’re actually wasting their money.’

‘That’s also a waste of resources, Bucky.’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Halfway into lunch?’

‘Deal.’

‘You two okay?’ Winifred asked.

‘One hundred percent fine,’ Bucky grinned, and Steve just _knew_ something strange was going to come out of his mouth. ‘Just discussing who’s going to bottom when we get back to Steve’s. We like to switch up who catches and pitches.’

_There it is._

Winifred’s jaw clicked audibly, and her husband cleared his throat noisily, looking away, and anywhere but his son’s face.

Steve didn’t know what to say to get out of that situation, like how to improve it, or start a new conversation, without anyone thinking he was intentionally switching subject, so he just left it. Like Bucky probably intended – to let the thought of him taking it up the ass stagnate in their minds for a little while.

It was, surprisingly, George who broke the silence. ‘Your mother tells me you aren’t taking the job she gave you.’

‘She gave me nothing to go on,’ Bucky shrugged, and Steve could feel the way Bucky stiffened slightly next to him. ‘She knows my terms.’

‘Yes, you’ve made them quite clear. You’ve gone on less, you know.’ George flicked his eyes to Steve, and then back to Bucky. ‘I’m assuming you’ve told Steve what you do.’

‘Yes,’ Bucky narrowed his eyes. ‘But this is the last time, so you need to hurry to meet your side of the agreement.’

Yeah, Bucky looked like he was about to flip this table. Apparently he had a very short fuse when it came to dealing with his parents, so Steve decided to activate his contingency plan.

_Nat,_ Steve called, reaching up to the pendant that she had given him, and which hung over his sternum, and rubbing it gently in an attempt to coax a stronger connection to her. _Nat, you hear me?_

_Loud and clear, Captain,_ she replied. _What’s up?_

_I need you to call me with some bullshit line to get us to leave early._

_Now?_

_Now._

Steve dropped his hand, and tuned back into the conversation at hand, which was now just Bucky and his parents staring coldly at each other. Fuck it if the food wasn’t there yet, they needed to get out before daggers were thrown from hands, instead of just eyes.

And, thank fuck, that was when his phone went off. ‘Excuse me,’ Steve smiled apologetically, pulling his phone from his pocket and sliding to answer, not bothering to leave the table. ‘Hey, Nat.’

‘So here’s my shitty excuse,’ she said. ‘Tell them something about the store, yeah? Sound shocked.’

‘Oh, wow, that’s terrible,’ Steve said, glancing to Bucky like he was concerned about something. ‘Yeah, we’ll come straight away.’

‘Great, see you tomorrow and have fun on your date.’

‘Yeah, yeah, of course. Don’t touch anything until the police get there. See you soon,’ Steve said.

‘Bye, asshole,’ Nat said, hanging up the phone.

‘What’s going on?’ Bucky asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

‘The store got broken into,’ Steve said, biting his lip worriedly. ‘The back door is all smashed up, and things are all over the floor, so Nat wants me – well, _us_ , because she likes you – to come in and give some emotional support.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ Bucky sighed, and shoved his chair backwards. ‘Sorry, parents, but we have to go.’

Winifred rolled her eyes, but said nothing, because apparently even _she_ realised she would look like a heartless bitch to say something about it being bullshit and just an excuse to leave, because what if it was _true_? Steve was a very convincing actor.

Steve smiled apologetically as he stood. ‘Lovely to meet you both.’

‘Bye,’ Bucky said, turning from his parents, and slapping Steve on the ass, as he fell into step beside him. He wound his arm possessively around Steve’s waist as they left, smirking all the while, as he knew how his parents would undoubtedly be fuming behind them.

‘Is this necessary?’

‘Yes, definitely.’

‘Aren’t your parents okay with you… y’know…’

‘Liking guys?’ Bucky shrugged. ‘I came out as gay when I was seventeen, and they weren’t too bothered. I think it’s probably because they expected me to be in this line of work a lot longer, and there’s not really any time for relationships.’

‘So they’re okay with it because they never really expected anything to come of it?’

‘Pretty much.’

Steve hummed. ‘They shouldn’t be parents if they aren’t prepared to take on a child that differs from their views.’

‘And yet, here I am.’

‘Here you are,’ Steve agreed, kissing his temple. ‘Date time?’

Bucky grinned. ‘Did you actually plan a date for today?’

‘Yeah, of course! I said I would.’

‘I honestly wasn’t expecting you to hold up to it, though.’

‘So rude, so little faith in me,’ Steve shook his head. ‘It’s gonna be fun, don’t worry.’

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Steve didn’t really have a plan for their date. He had a vague idea of things that he and Bucky _could_ do, but he didn’t know how much of it Bucky would actually _want_ to do. With that in mind, Steve decided to work his way through his mental list of possibilities and see what happened.

‘Are you hungry?’ Steve asked, as he unlocked the door to his apartment, letting himself and Bucky inside.

‘Very,’ Bucky nodded, bending down to pat Hazel as she came to greet them.

‘Pizza?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Cool, you can order it while I sort out date stuff,’ he said, heading to the kitchen.

Bucky followed him curiously, taking out his phone to order pizza online for lunch as he went. ‘Steve, what are you doing?’

‘Organising date things!’ Steve replied, pulling open his fridge and taking out bits and pieces.

‘What the hell are we going to do with an old lettuce, Steve?’

‘How do you feel about ducks?’

‘Is this related to the lettuce?’

‘Yes.’

Bucky frowned as he tapped through to pizza selection. ‘Ducks are okay? I mean I’m not afraid of them, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Do you wanna go feed them?’ Steve asked tentatively, wondering if this was an idea that was very much going to sink.

Bucky looked up with a small smile. ‘You want to feed ducks?’

‘Yeah, I love feeding ducks.’

‘Then yes,’ Bucky nodded, going back to pizzas. ‘I would like to do that.’

‘We don’t have to –’

‘No, I think that sounds fun. I haven’t fed ducks in years. Aren’t you supposed to feed them bread?’

‘Nooo,’ Steve said, shaking his head as he drew out the word into several syllables. ‘Bread is bad for ducks and is also bad for the waterways because the yeast in the bread sucks out all the oxygen and it clogs the drains. Something like that.’

‘Interesting,’ Bucky hummed. ‘What’s your usual pizza? That one with the feta and spinach, right?’

‘Yep.’

‘Oh good, because that’s what I ordered you,’ Bucky said, locking his phone after sending the order through. ‘The thing says it’ll be like half an hour.’

‘Okay,’ Steve said, getting up from the crouch he was in by his fridge and stepping across the kitchen to put his hands on Bucky’s waist. ‘We could do some stuff before the pizza gets here, then.’

‘I’m listening,’ Bucky said, tilting his head to the side as Steve placed gentle kisses along his neck. ‘I like where this is going.’

‘Mhmm,’ Steve hummed, slipping his hands under Bucky’s shirt. ‘Me too.’

‘Should we take this to –’ Bucky paused, frowning as he looked back to where his phone was on the bench, going off wildly. ‘Shit.’

Steve sighed and put his head on Bucky shoulder. ‘You should answer that before the mood is killed more than this.’

‘Yeah, I’ll, um,’ Bucky huffed and reached for his phone, stepping out of Steve’s arms and heading for the living room when he saw it was his Mom. ‘What?’

‘You know, a “Hello, Mom!” every once in a while wouldn’t kill you.’

‘Or you. How unfortunate. What do you want?’

‘Were you busy?’ Bucky’s mom asked, and he could _hear_ the insinuation.

‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

‘Too bad. We have your lead. I’m emailing it to you now.’

‘Great.’

‘It’s not a person, but it is a magic profile I’m sure you could hunt down. And it’s fresh.’

Bucky groaned. He was gonna have to leave Steve for the moment if he ever wanted this to progress. The sooner he hunted down this witch, the sooner he would be left alone. ‘Fine.’

‘Thank you, James,’ Winifred said softly. ‘I know this is hard for you to do.’

‘And yet, you’re still making me,’ he snapped, hanging up on her.

‘Everything okay?’ Steve asked from the doorway.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bucky said, slipping his phone into his pocket and giving Steve an apologetic smile.

‘Gotta go?’

‘Yeah, terrible timing, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Steve shrugged. ‘Raincheck?’

‘Definitely,’ Bucky nodded heading for the door, pecking Steve’s cheek quickly as he went past. ‘I’ll text you later? And pay you for the pizza, of course.’

‘Don’t worry about. Maybe I’ll bring you some later.’

‘Sounds good,’ Bucky smiled, all the while knowing that he wouldn’t see Steve tonight, and probably not tomorrow or the day after.

Bucky was going hunting.


	3. Breathe

It was useless. The profile Bucky’s mom got for him was absolute shit. Bucky followed it, trailing up and around Brooklyn, and found nothing but a series of dead ends. He crossed about a dozen other trails, long since gone cold, and breathed deeply to calm himself when this lead turned out to be a complete waste of time as well.

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _profile useless. no other fresh trails. get back to me when you actually have something._

**_Text: Mom  
_ ** _that’s unfortunate. would you recognise the trail if you came across it again?_

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _irrelevant. created by a decoy. they all had similar base patterns._

**_Text: Mom  
_ ** _a decoy? you weren’t followed or picked up by any of its tricks, were you?_

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _you’re not seriously asking me that are you_

Bucky shook his head in exasperation and slipped his phone into his pocket, ignoring the texts he felt come through, no doubt from his mom as well. All he wanted to do was head back to Steve’s, but he was exhausted from using his magic so extensively, after letting it lie mostly dormant for the past few months. He decided to head home, stopping past somewhere with greasy burgers to take with him.

 

* * *

 

‘So aside from what I was present for, any other fun things happen with Bucky’s parents?’ Nat asked, setting her pestle on the bench beside Steve’s open grimoire.

‘Not really,’ Steve sighed. ‘We went back to my apartment and ordered pizza, but then he had to go.’

‘Pity.’

‘I know. I was like five minutes away from getting laid.’

‘Again?’

‘I haven’t had sex in over a decade, can you leave me alone?’

‘Overshare,’ Nat wrinkled her nose. ‘I heard from Sam.’

‘Oh?’ Steve perked up. ‘What happened?’

‘He set some fresh trails and added a fancy new sensor spell he came up with, so he could tell if someone was following it.’

‘Like a hunter?’

Nat nodded. ‘It was set off.’

‘Fuck,’ Steve muttered. ‘So, that means there’s one here.’

‘We need to be careful, Steve. I think we should boost the wards at the shop.’

‘At the shop? Isn’t that a little bit of overkill? There are already so many layers there, if you add too many more, the entire system could collapse, and that’s exactly what we _don’t_ want.’

Nat glared at him. ‘Steve, I am so much older than you, don’t you think I know what I’m doing?’

Steve dipped his head, poking the mush in his mortar. ‘Sorry.’

Nat’s face softened. ‘Look, no one is going to get us, okay? There are some wards I haven’t put on the shop, so if I add those, the wards will be stronger overall. I’ll come to your apartment and put some more there, and I’ll make sure we’re safe, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I know. I trust you, Nat. I can do my own wards, though.’

Nat rolled her eyes. ‘I know, but you’re too picky with how you do them. Quick and dirty is the way to go, padawan.’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. Now, what the hell are we making?’

Nat grinned and closed Steve’s grimoire. ‘Pasta.’

‘Huh?’

‘For lunch. What you have in your bowl is pesto.’

Steve groaned. ‘You got me to make pesto?’

‘Kinda shocked you didn’t figure it out sooner.’

‘Yeah, I’m not really… with it at the moment. I haven’t heard from Bucky since he left yesterday.’

‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ Nat reassured him. ‘He’s probably just busy, not avoiding you.’

‘Hmm,’ Steve prodded the pesto idly, as Nat got out of her chair and started getting things out for their lunch. ‘He didn’t even send me a text or something. It feels… off.’

‘Then spy on him.’

‘No, definitely not. Massive breach of privacy, I think.’

Nat shrugged. ‘Guess you’ll just be living in suspense, then.’

‘I guess so,’ Steve agreed. ‘And don’t you dare spy on him either.’

‘I would _never –’_ Nat stopped midsentence and turned her eyes towards where Steve’s phone was going off on the bench further down. ‘You should get that.’

Steve narrowed his eyes and with a small flick of his wrist, brought the phone within reach. ‘Oh, look, it’s Bucky,’ he said, sliding his finger across the screen to answer the call. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘What are you doing for lunch?’ Bucky asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

‘It’s Sunday, so I’m at Nat’s. We’re having pasta. Why?’

‘Crap,’ Bucky groaned. ‘Having a shitty day. Was wondering if you wanted to get food and lock yourself in an apartment with me.’

‘Oh…’ Steve glanced to Nat, who was mouthing _Invite him over!_ ‘I can’t leave quite yet, but do you wanna come to Nat’s? There’ll be food, and she has a cat.’

Bucky sighed gratefully. ‘Text me the address and I’ll be on my way.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky turned up about twenty minutes later, which had given Steve and Nat plenty of time to move their grimoires and other magic things somewhere that Bucky wouldn’t see or find them.

Steve had been banished from Nat’s kitchen after the time he nearly burned down her apartment making a roast, so when Bucky knocked on the door, Steve was the one that answered.

‘Hey,’ Steve smiled, standing to the side to allow Bucky in. ‘You’re just in time. Nat assures me that food is like a minute away.’

‘Oh wow,’ Bucky said, as he looked around Nat’s apartment.

Steve wasn’t sure if the comment was directed at the imminent dishing of food, or the theme Nat had chosen for her décor. She had gone for a more rustic approach, stripping plaster off a few walls to expose the brickwork underneath, and choosing furniture with wooden accents. Plants hung from several hooks in the ceiling, between the living room and kitchen and dining area, and there were a few potted plants dotted around as well.

Or maybe it was because Valkyrie, in all her fluffy glory, walked into the room and came directly to Bucky to sniff him.

‘Is this the cat?’ Bucky asked, crouching down and holding his hand out for her. (Okay, the comment had been directed at the cat.)

‘Yeah,’ Steve nodded. ‘That’s Val.’

‘She’s so pretty.’

‘And soft.’

Bucky tentatively stroked her along her back and grinned. ‘Wow.’

‘She would’ve been a total mess if she had stayed feral, right?’ Nat said from the doorway. ‘Her fur would’ve been all matted. Covered in leaves.’

‘She always ends up covered in leaves anyway,’ Steve said. ‘You have a lot of plants.’

‘Guilty,’ Nat shrugged. ‘Lunch?’

The boys followed Nat through to the kitchen, where she had the bowl of pasta sitting on a mat, and another bowl with salad beside it. ‘Help yourselves,’ she said, handing them plates. ‘I thought I’d do a salad as well, because I’m pretty sure neither of you are getting enough leafy greens.’

‘That’s a lie,’ Steve said, dumping a large amount of both on his plate. ‘I have salad in my fridge, right, Buck?’

‘Actually, last time I saw salad in your fridge it was wilted and gross,’ Bucky said absently, crouching again to pat Val, who had followed them to the kitchen.

‘Way to throw me under the bus,’ Steve muttered, taking a seat at the dining table.

‘It’s not throwing you under a bus if it’s true,’ Nat pointed out. ‘So, Bucky, how’s your day been?’

Bucky’s face darkened and he let out a level sigh. ‘Shitty parents making me do shitty stuff.’

Nat pursed her lips and glanced to Steve. _You probably should’ve mentioned that._

_Thought I did?_ Steve replied silently. ‘We’ll probably go after lunch and… do stuff. Maybe.’

Nat raised an eyebrow as she popped a piece of pasta in her mouth. ‘Mhmm.’ _I’ll bring your grimoire around to the shop tomorrow._

Steve gave her a small nod. _Thanks._

They ate quietly, with Steve and Nat continuing their conversation via telepathy, and Bucky staring at his plate, like it was responsible for his problems.

 

* * *

 

It had been almost a month since Bucky had followed a trail in Brooklyn, only to discover the origin of it to be a decoy.

His parents had been pushing him to do more of his own searching into the actual witches around those parts. They had been telling him every chance they got, _“Where there’s a decoy, there are witches!”_ like Bucky hadn’t heard that saying since before he could talk. They were very insistent that Bucky be the one to find this witch, even though his sister was now free to do it instead.

Bucky regretted having so easily agreed to this damn deal, but at the same time, it was the last one he would ever have to do, because for all the pushing and rudeness he had to put up with from his parents, they didn’t break promises. So Bucky had resolved to just stick his head down and get this shit over with.

At the very least, he was building up a tolerance for using so much magic again. It felt good, like flexing a muscle that had been cramped for way too long. He missed the way he could sense things in the air, and see things other people couldn’t, like the pale breadcrumb trails through the air of where someone with magic had been. It was addictive, using his magic again, even though it had been less than a year since he’d quit hunting, but it was like he had forgotten exactly what it was like.

It kind of scared Bucky, how much he was enjoying this. He knew it was for the best, however, and that was what kept him going, he told himself. He was staring at the light down a very long, dark tunnel. The end of this part of his life was finally in sight, and he was going for it.

He had also forgotten how infuriating hunting could be. He had made no progress, except to determine that there was at least one witch in the area his parents had sent him to, otherwise there would be no decoy there. They were like the protectors of witches, watching over their chosen home areas, laying false trails for hunters, and making sure that anyone they had suspicions about was safe to be around.

Bucky didn’t know why witches even bothered with decoys, really. At least not this witch. He had picked up no other trails apart from those of the decoy, so clearly this witch had plenty of time to practice moving all their traces of magic. It definitely did not want to be found.

With a sigh, Bucky closed the folder of “new leads” given to him by his parents earlier in the week, and headed to Steve’s.

 

* * *

 

‘So,’ Sam said, flopping onto Steve’s couch and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Natasha’s leg. ‘Good news.’

Steve looked up from his phone, sending a quick reply to Bucky that, yes, of course he could come over. ‘That sounds like a lie.’

‘All news is good news,’ Sam grinned. ‘There’s definitely a hunter in town looking for you two.’

Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. ‘That’s definitely a lie then.’

‘Redwing collected some data for me,’ Sam shrugged, poking the sparrow on his arm and smiling as it preened, before settling back down. ‘The hunter is clearly a novice, because it isn’t covering its trails, so I don’t think you’ll be in too much danger.’

‘Oh,’ Nat frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘As I can be. I’m laying extra trails just in case.’

‘Uh, just throwing this out there,’ Steve said. ‘But it might be time to glamour up because Bucky is on his way.’

Natasha groaned. ‘But it’s witchy night!’

‘I know, but he’s also my boyfriend and I really wouldn’t mind tapping that later if I get the chance, y’know?’

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Nat huffed. ‘I suppose he can come.’

‘Great, I mean, not like this is my apartment or anything,’ Steve rolled his eyes, as he drew up his usual glamour, which he dropped whenever it was just him and his friends. No use wasting precious energy on concealing yourself from your friends if they were just like you.

‘You know,’ Sam said, glancing sadly at the now stilled bird on his arm. ‘I still can’t believe you’re dating like… a normal person. An actual _person_. A muggle.’

‘He’s allowed to date muggles, _Snape_ ,’ Nat said, checking she hadn’t missed any magical tattoos, even though she had been pulling up the same glamour every day for years. ‘I just don’t think we have enough popcorn.’

‘I’ll go put another bag in the microwave,’ Steve said, taking the hint and heading to his kitchen. ‘If Bucky arrives, open the door for him, okay?’

‘Sure thing!’

Steve was standing next to his microwave, watching the bag of popcorn inflate, when there was a knock on the door. Steve was tempted to go open it himself, but he really didn’t trust his microwave not to explode with the popcorn inside. It had happened before, and Nat would never let him live it down if it happened again.

He heard murmured greetings and introductions, and Bucky appeared in his kitchen, looking a little dishevelled from the change in weather, but otherwise, pretty damn good. As usual.

‘Hey,’ Steve smiled, placing a quick kiss on Bucky’s temple as he came to his side.

‘Hi,’ Bucky sighed and rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. ‘Can you do me a favour?’

‘Sure, what do you need?’

‘Could you like… Kill my parents?’ Bucky asked, his voice muffled as he pushed his face further into Steve’s shirt.

‘I…’ Steve frowned. ‘Probably. As someone who has no family, though, I think I’m required to say you might miss them at some point.’

‘Unlikely.’

‘Oh, well. In that case,’ Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and rested his chin on top of his boyfriend’s head. ‘Let the popcorn finish, and once my microwave isn’t in danger of catching fire, we can go.’

‘Mm,’ Bucky nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

Steve chuckled, releasing Bucky to find another bowl for the popcorn. ‘What happened?’

‘They got me a bit more information on this person I’m supposed to be finding, but it’s still all dead ends.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘Probably not,’ Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes as he hopped onto Steve’s bench, swinging his legs gently. ‘But thanks.’

‘Any time,’ Steve smiled, removing the bag of popcorn from the microwave. ‘Extra butter?’

‘Got any M&Ms?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘In the popcorn.’

‘Absolutely _not_ ,’ Steve said, tipping the popcorn into the bowl. ‘You’re a _heathen_.’

‘Oh good, I’m dating a purist.’

‘Far from. I just draw the line at sticking my hand into melted chocolate.’

‘I’ll convert you yet,’ Bucky sighed, joining Steve as he headed to the living room. ‘What are we watching?’ he asked, dropping onto the couch next to Steve, as he navigated Netflix on his TV.

‘Bee Movie,’ Natasha replied. ‘The one and only.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Definitely.’

Bucky glanced to Steve. ‘If you’re making me watch Bee Movie, I want M&Ms in the popcorn.’

Steve exchanged a look with Nat and Sam. ‘M&Ms are on the top shelf in the pantry.’

‘Excellent,’ Bucky grinned, heading back to the kitchen.

_‘According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.’_

Bucky paused as he came back into the room, to see all three of the others staring at the screen, speaking along with the opening monologue.

_‘Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.’_

Bucky sighed and went back to his spot on the couch. ‘Why am I dating you?’

Steve turned to him and winked. ‘The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible.’

‘Oh my God,’ Bucky muttered. ‘You’re lucky you’re hot.’

Steve just laughed and went straight back to reciting the script with his friends.

 

* * *

 

Despite the three others in the room all becoming pod people as they stared at the bee hitting on a human woman, Bucky did enjoy himself. They started taking turns speaking the lines, each taking on a different character, until they apparently got bored with that, and just mocked the lines instead. At some point, Steve’s cats, Birch and Hazel, appeared beside Bucky, butting his hand for pieces of popcorn.

When the movie finished, Bucky was half-tempted to applaud their efforts, but he decided that maybe he shouldn’t encourage their strange behaviour. Instead, he just said, ‘Are you done now?’

Steve nodded. ‘We’re done.’

‘So,’ Sam said, glancing at Nat. ‘We’re, uh, gonna head off. Let you two… hang out.’

‘Are you sure?’ Steve said. ‘We could –’

‘Yeah, they’re sure,’ Bucky interrupted. ‘Definitely sure.’

‘Definitely,’ Nat agreed. ‘We’ll see you later, Steve.’

‘Good to meet you, Bucky,’ Sam added, following Nat out the door.

‘You too,’ Bucky said, waving as they shut the door behind themselves. ‘So,’ he turned to Steve and raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you wanna do?’

Steve let out a long exhale, eyeing Bucky up and down slowly. ‘I’m sure we’ll think of something.’

 

* * *

 

Another month passed before Bucky had anything more than false trails to follow.

It was a Monday when he came across a trail that was no more than a couple of days old. He picked up on it right away, and was following it easily into Brooklyn, a different area than the trail he crossed the decoy ones in, when it stopped abruptly.

Bucky frowned, moving to the side of a building to get a clearer view of the tiny particles in the air. It looked like the trail had ended, but it hadn’t. Instead, coming from the other direction, was the markings of a different witch. They must have crossed paths, because witches always did, and if so then this witch had… aged their magic? That was the only explanation of the facts before him, but Bucky had never heard of such a thing. It wasn’t possible to do that, surely.

 

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _have you ever heard of witches aging trails?_

**_From: Mom  
_ ** _Never. It’s not possible. Why?_

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _i'm looking at two different trails. one stops where another starts and they go in the same direction, but they’re much older._

**_From: Mom  
_ ** _Not decoy trails?_

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _not a chance_

**_From: Mom  
_ ** _I’ll look into it. Follow the two going same way._

Bucky locked his phone, slipping it back into his pocket, and yawned as he headed down the street. He had been so excited to finally find a fresh lead, only to have it double back on him when it ended. The two different trails were interesting, though. That meant there were at least two witches _and_ a decoy. Exciting news for his parents, but that also meant they would likely want him to go after all of them.

Great. Bucky was so happy to have just doubled his workload.

However, being the professional he was, Bucky didn’t let the prospect get him down, and followed the damn trails. After almost an hour of walking, Bucky began to recognise the area he was in. He had only been here once, but he never forgot where people he knew lived. This was Natasha’s neighbourhood.

Bucky paused and looked around at where he was. One street over from her apartment. God, Bucky hoped she wasn’t going to get hurt, because witches were tricky sometimes, and you couldn’t trust anyone you met.

Definitely not now, at least, because the trails Bucky had been following had completely disappeared. _Crap._ He must’ve been so distracted by the fact that he was so close to a familiar location that he had lost track of what he was doing.

Bucky retraced his steps and tried to find where the trails had gone off to, but instead found that they just… ended. About six blocks over from Natasha’s apartment, there was just… nothing. A complete stop.

_What the fuck._

Bucky rubbed his eyes and pulled out his phone to call an Uber. Fuck this. He was exhausted, he was mildly confused, he was concerned about Nat’s safety, and he was not going to walk all the way home.

He should’ve taken his bike. Something to remember for next time.

 

* * *

 

**_From: Buckaroo  
_ ** _i've been tracking down that guy my parents sent me after_

**_From: Buckaroo  
_ ** _oh? find him? off the hook w ur parents?_

**_Sent: Buckaroo  
_ ** _not yet. he’s good at hiding. i think he might be staying somewhere around nat’s apartment tho so tell her to be careful, okay??_

**_From: Buckaroo  
_ ** _yeah ofc_

 

Steve locked his phone, slipping it into his back pocket, as he left the backroom of the store and went to find Nat. The store was empty, and he figured they could risk an actual, verbal conversation. ‘Nat?’ he called.

‘Outside!’ came the reply.

Steve glanced once more around the shop to make sure no one was in, before he nodded towards the door, locking it and flipping the sign to closed. ‘We need to talk,’ he said, as he entered the outdoor area.

Natasha stood up from where she was crouched at the foot of a stand of hydrangeas. ‘What’s up? You locked the door.’

Steve nodded. ‘I’m…’

‘Worried,’ she filled in. ‘I can feel it rolling off you.’

‘Bucky said he tracked the guy he’s hunting to your neighbourhood,’ Steve explained. ‘Like, bounty hunting.’

Nat frowned and wiped her hands on her jeans. ‘Oh.’

‘He said he wants to make sure you’re careful but…’

‘But you’re worried that he’s not actually hunting a felon,’ Nat said slowly, sifting through Steve’s thoughts to make coherent sentences where he couldn’t. ‘You think he might be hunting witches and he got to the edge of the wards where all magic traces get erased.’

Steve nodded again. ‘Yeah.’

‘Steve,’ Nat said softly, putting her hands on his shoulders, washing a wave of calmness over him. ‘I think I would know if a hunter was that close to us, okay? You would _definitely_ know, given how close you are to him. He’s clear. The bounty hunting is a coincidence, okay? You don’t need to worry.’

‘In any case, if there’s a felon around your place, you should be careful.’

‘Oh, like they could get the jump on _me_ ,’ Natasha rolled her eyes and took her hands off Steve. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about that, either.’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘I know, but Steve, you need to be a little more selfish, okay? You can’t spend your life worrying about everything and everyone.’

‘I –’

‘I know,’ Nat cut him off. ‘I know. If it makes you feel better, just go home, boost your wards or something. If Bucky’s hunting anything other than humans, he won’t get through, okay? Will that put your mind at rest?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Good. I’ll close up early and do the same here and to my apartment. It’ll give you one less thing to worry about.’

Steve managed a small, weak smile. ‘Thanks, Nat.’

 

* * *

 

Steve liked to drop his glamour when he was at home. It was a total waste of energy to bother keeping it up if it was just him and his cats, and _they_ definitely didn’t care. They rather enjoyed chasing Steve’s tattoos over his shoulders, and occasionally, hunting things like butterflies and moths that Steve would materialise for them.

So there he was, standing in the middle of his living room, arms out and palms up, and murmuring a chant in a language long since dead to boost up his wards, when there was a knock on his door.

The moth Steve had made for Birch and Hazel folded in on itself and disappeared into a small cloud of dust, much to their disappointment.

‘Who is it?’ Steve called, hastily pulling his glamour back up.

‘I bring food, let me in,’ Bucky replied, his voice muffled by the door.

Steve looked to his cats. ‘Time to test the theory,’ he muttered. The wards were at full strength, and if Bucky was anything other than what he claimed to be, he wouldn’t get past the front door.

‘It’s getting cold, Steve,’ Bucky said.

Steve took a deep breath and headed for his door, tentatively opening it. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Bucky smiled, kissing him lightly as he stepped through into Steve’s apartment. ‘I went past the shop, but Nat said you went home because no one was there and you went to have a nap. Was it good?’

‘Was what good?’ Steve asked, distracted by the fact that Bucky had made it in, so probably wasn’t hunting witches. _Thank God._

‘Your nap?’

‘Oh… Yeah. Great nap. Very… informative.’

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, as he opened the bag he had brought with him. ‘So I got burgers, and as I was heading over, I went past somewhere that was selling wontons, so we also have wontons…’

‘That’s great! I love wontons.’

‘I know,’ Bucky said, bumping his hip into Steve’s. ‘Netflix and wontons?’

‘Isn’t the expression “Netflix and chill?”’

‘Probably,’ Bucky shrugged. ‘I’m not down with _the youth_ , but I am down for some chill later.’

‘God, you’re so embarrassing.’

‘No one said you had to date me.’

‘You’re right, it was a conscious decision. I’m only here for your ass.’

‘And I’m only here for your abs,’ Bucky quipped. ‘We’re even.’

‘Great, I’m so happy we sorted that,’ Steve grinned, stealing one of the wontons Bucky had put aside for himself. ‘So, what are we watching?’

‘Whatever, your choice,’ Bucky shrugged, passing him a burger.

‘Just pick something from my list,’ Steve said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘Otherwise we’ll keep going around in circles of what to watch.’

Bucky rolled his eyes, but went over to pick a movie. ‘Your list is full of shit.’

‘Thanks,’ Steve said, his voice coming out weird and high. He was too happy Bucky had passed through his wards to care that Bucky had just insulted his taste of movies.

‘You okay?’ Bucky asked, turning around. Apparently he had noticed the weird inflection.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just happy.’


	4. Mouth Shut

Bucky was frantic as he unlocked his phone, dialling his mother’s number faster than he’d ever thought he’d need to.

‘James?’ she answered, sounding confused. Bucky didn’t blame her – he never called unless it was of the utmost importance.

‘I have a fresh trail,’ he said, walking as fast as he could without arousing suspicion. ‘No more than ten minutes.’

‘Oh my,’ she breathed. ‘Why are you calling? Go get it!’

‘I don’t know if I can do this.’

‘You have to! James, we had a deal. You need to find this witch and _kill it_.’

‘Can’t you send Becca?’

‘Absolutely not,’ his mother huffed. ‘Get that witch and you call me back when it is no longer breathing. You hear me?’

Bucky took a deep breath. She was right, they had a deal. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He followed the trail for a few more moments, before he came to a small park – children on a playground, ducks in a pond, people having picnics, that sort of thing. Bucky scanned the park, before his eyes came to rest on a young man, no older than seventeen.

Bucky’s senses were prickling as he looked him up and down, waiting for him to do something or show something on his skin that was a clear sign of his magic. He watched, and watched, and…

_There._

Bucky barely saw it, even with his enhanced vision, but a small tattoo of a snake slithered its way to behind the boy’s ear. The sight of it set Bucky’s heart racing, and he settled on a bench inside the barriers of the park, as he watched the boy sit on the swing set.

A small breeze worked up, ruffling the boy’s hair, and Bucky watched as he smiled, closing his eyes and letting the wind push him on the swing. He seemed happy. No, he _was_ happy. Bucky could feel it radiating off him.

Bucky dared to read him a little closer, grazing the surface of the boy’s mind for any information. Maybe who the other witch was, or even the decoy.

All Bucky was able to get was the sense of relief and joy this kid was feeling. His skin was tanned, and his hair had been cut short on the sides and longer on top, in that way that was popular at the moment. It felt like it was more out of necessity for this kid. He had travelled a long way, which seemed obvious, given the state of his tan, even as they moved into fall.

He was just so happy to be safe, finally. He had been hunted before, barely making it out with his life. He wasn’t even eighteen, and he had been alone for years already.

Bucky could feel something else in him, though. He wasn’t… quite alone. He had a sibling, somewhere. They had said they would meet somewhere once it was safe.

Bucky frowned, digging into the next layer of the boy’s thoughts, trying to find something about the _other_ witch. Not this kid’s sister.

_She’s like a mother already._ The thought came loud and clear. _She’s going to teach me how to be safe. How to keep Ariana safe._

Bucky bit his lip. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill this kid. He didn’t give a shit if this kid was a witch or not, he was still _just a kid_. He didn’t deserve to die. So Bucky did something else.

‘Hey kid,’ Bucky whispered, pushing his voice to the other side of the park. The kid looked up in fear, twisting sharply around. ‘Calm down,’ Bucky continued. ‘I’m nowhere near you.’

The kid stopped and turned to where Bucky was sitting on the bench. ‘Are you a witch?’ he asked, doing the same trick as Bucky.

Bucky huffed. ‘Not quite. I’m a hunter.’

‘No, please no,’ the kid stammered. ‘I have a – I have a sister, she – she needs me.’

‘I know. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.’

‘Then what do you want?’ He was unable to keep the fear from his voice.

‘You need to leave this place. I know you feel safe here, and I’m sorry, but other hunters will not let you stay here, even if I will. We have a job to do.’ Bucky hated that he was including himself in that statement. He didn’t want to kill witches. He didn’t want to kill _anyone_. He’d seen enough death to last him a lifetime.

‘I just got here!’

‘I know. You’re shit at hiding your tracks,’ Bucky sighed. ‘Look, tell me if there are other witches here. How many. Who they are. I’ll let you go free, no strings attached.’

‘None, just me,’ the boy said defiantly, though something like deception flicked across his mind as he said it.

_Liar._ ‘Okay. I’ll pretend I believe that noble effort at protecting your people.’ Bucky stood from the bench. ‘I can only give you twenty four hours to leave the city, before my higher ups know I’ve lied.’

The kid nodded and didn’t say a word, as he jumped off the swing, and sprinted out of the park.

_Fuck_ , Bucky was getting soft.

He didn’t even care.

****

**_Sent: Mom  
_ ** _dealt with._

**_From: Mom  
_ ** _Well done, James. I knew we could count on you._

Yeah, if only.

 

* * *

 

**_From: Buckanoodle  
_ ** _i’m coming over_

**_Sent: Buckanoodle  
_ ** _okay… any particular reason?_

**_From: Buckanoodle  
_ ** _nope just wanna see you :)_

**_Sent: Buckanoodle  
_ ** _see you soon then?_

Steve locked his phone and closed his grimoire. He had finished boosting his wards, after he had been interrupted by Bucky a few days ago, but he couldn’t help checking through his spell book to see if he could find anything else to add to protect his apartment. He snapped his fingers and the book disappeared, back into the hidden vault under his bed.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and out of all the places Bucky could’ve been, on his way to Steve’s apartment should not have been one of them.

Steve knew he had been out trying to catch the guy his parents had sent him after, but with no luck. Judging by his choice of emoji, Bucky’s apparent good mood meant either he had caught the guy, or told his parents to get fucked and dropped the case. Steve didn’t know which it was, but he hoped whichever it was meant that this whole thing was fucking _over_.

When Bucky arrived, he bypassed Steve completely without a word, waiting until Steve had closed the door again to turn around with a grin on his face. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Steve said, confused by Bucky’s heavy breathing and wild looking hair, like he’d been in a wind tunnel. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

Bucky laughed. ‘I ran here. I feel… _alive_.’

‘Um.’

Bucky unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it on Steve’s couch as he stepped across the room in three large strides, taking Steve’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. ‘Feel alive with me, Steve.’

Steve was still a bit confused by this sudden, strange appearance from his boyfriend, and held himself back slightly from Bucky. ‘What brought this on?’

Bucky let out a deep sigh and smiled dopily. ‘I just did a good thing, and I’m feeling really good about it, okay?’

Steve thought about it for the briefest moment, before nodding and stepping close to Bucky again. ‘Are we doing this?’

‘No complaints from me,’ Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pushing himself against Steve’s body.

‘Good,’ Steve grinned, spinning them so Bucky was against the wall next to the front door, and slotting a thigh between Bucky’s, as he brought their mouths together. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Mm,’ Bucky agreed, knotting his fingers in Steve’s hair, as he went back in for another kiss. He made a small noise of protest when Steve broke away, but that quickly stopped when Steve whipped his t-shirt off. Bucky would never have said he had a thing for such tattooed people before Steve, but _God_ , he wasn’t going back now.

Steve yanked Bucky’s shirt off over his head as well, pressing their bare skin together, and grabbing Bucky by the hips to push him better against the wall.

Bucky tilted his head with a breathy gasp as Steve dragged his mouth slowly down his throat, stopping at the juncture between Bucky’s neck and shoulder to work up a mark. Steve hummed, moving down Bucky’s chest…

Only to be interrupted by his phone going off.

Steve stopped and pulled back. ‘I should probably –’

‘Don’t,’ Bucky whined.

‘It could be important!’ Steve said, holding Bucky with one arm, and unwrapping his legs from his waist with the other. He put Bucky down and smiled apologetically when Bucky pouted. ‘Sorry,’ he said, darting across the room to his phone.

‘What’s up?’ he answered, going and standing by his window, facing out to the street so Bucky wouldn’t see his face. He didn’t know what Nat wanted, but his poker face was not up to scratch right now.

‘Magic stuff. Is Bucky there?’ Natasha asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay pretend we’re talking about something at the store.’

‘I can do that,’ Steve said, suspicion entering his tone.

‘Well, Adrian just left. He didn’t give an explanation, just grabbed his things, apologised, and ran. Ideas?’

_Nope._ ‘I don’t think we have any in the storeroom.’

‘Me either,’ Nat sighed. ‘I told him he could always come back if he needed anything, but I got the idea he won’t be doing that, if the fear he was giving off was anything.’

‘Why would that happen?’

‘You’re not sounding very convincing.’

‘We don’t need more lavender oil, Nat, oh my god,’ Steve said, sounding fake even to his own ears.

‘You suck at this, holy shit,’ Nat replied, her head shaking evident even only through her voice. ‘I think he had a run in with the hunter. I don’t know why he would be spared, though. Hunters are usually violent.’

‘I don’t know either,’ Steve thought about that for a moment, before adding on, ‘Maybe we do need more lavender oil.’

‘This is painful. We’ll talk later.’

‘Okay, great. See you later,’ Steve said, hanging up. He let out a small sigh and ran a hand through his hair. _Fucking hunter._ Adrian had turned up a couple of days ago, having been on the run for a few years, after hunters killed his family. He and his sister had fled, running in opposite directions, and this was the first safe place – the first other witches – he had come across.

‘What was that about lavender oil?’ Bucky asked, coming up behind Steve, winding his arms around Steve’s waist, and resting his head on his shoulder.

Steve pushed the thought of the hunter out of his mind and smiled as he leaned back into Bucky, forcing himself to believe everything was fine. ‘Nat thinks we need to stock up, but last I checked, we had more of it than anything else.’

‘Fascinating,’ Bucky murmured, pressing his lips into the side of Steve’s neck. ‘Wanna pick up where we left off?’

Steve grinned and led him to the bedroom, but as hard as he tried, the hunter catching up to him lingered in his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Bucky thought he’d got away with it.

And then his mom called.

‘Yes?’ Bucky said suspiciously, answering his phone on the last possible ring before it went to voicemail.

‘We’re still getting traces in Brooklyn, James.’ No pleasantries, then. ‘Would you like to explain why?’

Bucky made a noncommittal noise. ‘Couldn’t tell you. I got rid of the witch.’

‘Yes, but which witch?’

Bucky resisted the urge to make a joke about the rhyming. ‘Well, _a_ witch.’

‘Not the witch we were under the impression you would be dealing with.’

‘Perhaps.’

Bucky’s mother let out a long, level breath. ‘Deal with it, James,’ she said, before abruptly hanging up.

‘Yeah, nice speaking to you, too,’ Bucky muttered. Seemed like maybe he wasn’t done after all.

 

* * *

 

_I’m going to ask him out._ Natasha’s thought was loud and clear and definitely directed to Steve.

Steve looked up from where he was rearranging the table of cacti and saw Natasha walking determinedly to where Clint was having a conversation with someone about his chocolates. _Nat,_ Steve replied. _He’s with a customer._

Nat made a quick gesture with her hand beside her leg and the customer’s phone rang. _Not anymore._

_Oh my God._ Steve shook his head lightly and extended his hearing to listen in on them. No doubt Natasha knew this, but that didn’t slow her down one bit.

‘Hey,’ she smiled, coming to a stop in front of Clint, who grinned back lopsidedly.

‘Hey,’ Clint said. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just wondering what you’re doing later?’

Clint blinked. ‘Me?’

‘No, the person behind you,’ Nat said, taking a slow breath as Clint turned to look behind him. ‘Yes, you.’

‘I’m, uh. Not busy,’ Clint blushed. ‘Really me?’

‘Yes,’ Natasha said softly. ‘Wanna get burgers?’

‘With you?’

Natasha shrugged. ‘I’m sure Steve and Bucky could come as well if you would feel better.’

‘No, no, that’s fine,’ Clint said quickly. ‘Burgers. Later.’

‘Burgers,’ Nat agreed. ‘Diner down the road? I’ll get Steve to close up and I can be there at six.’

‘Sounds good,’ Clint nodded. ‘I have to go, but I’ll see you later.’

‘Great, I look forward to it,’ Nat smiled, waving as Clint left with his empty chocolate crate. She headed over to where Steve was, still rearranging cacti. ‘See, why couldn’t you just do that with Bucky when he came in here?’

Steve raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Clint has been coming here for at least two years, and you’ve only just made a move. You do not get to lecture me in taking too long.’

Natasha frowned. ‘Fuck,’ she muttered, heading outside to spray the plants. ‘I hate it when you’re right.’

‘But, uh, speaking of Bucky…’ Steve said casually. ‘Have you seen him? Heard from him?’

‘Why would _I_ have heard from him?’ Nat asked, turning back to raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Have _you_?’

‘Not as such.’

The eyebrow went higher. ‘Oh? Not even a text? Email? Carrier pigeon?’

‘I miss carrier pigeons,’ Steve said absently. ‘So reliable. What good trash birds they were.’

‘Avoiding the question.’

Steve sighed. ‘No, I haven’t heard from him. I know he’s busy with this thing or whatever, but it would be nice if he checked in every once in a while.’

‘He hasn’t broken up with you, has he? Is this what the kids call _ghosting_?’

‘Absolutely no idea. I’m getting a little worried though.’

Natasha hummed thoughtfully as she turned on the garden hose. ‘Maybe he’s dead,’ she suggested.

Steve narrowed his eyes and water spurted from the hose onto Nat’s shoes. ‘He’s not dead.’

Nat waved her hand quickly over her feet and the water ran straight off. ‘Are you sure? Thought you said spying was rude.’

‘I’m not spying on him. I’d just… feel it. I’d know.’

Natasha was silent, but right before she started spraying the plants, gave him a look that said _Maybe when you find out what he’s doing, you’ll wish he_ was.

 

* * *

 

Bucky had been hunting these fucking witches for months now. He was _so_ motherfucking annoyed at the lack of progress he had made, and being focused on this one job had him tense as all Hell. He needed to let loose for at least _one_ night, and he figured the lack of attention he had been giving Steve recently could be remedied with some drinking and maybe a long, slow fuck or something.

Steve looked surprised when he opened his door to Bucky, a backpack stocked with beer and vodka over one shoulder, and a bag of Chinese food in the other. ‘Bucky?’

‘We’re getting drunk tonight,’ Bucky announced. ‘Drunk as fuck.’

‘I… why?’ Steve asked, watching Bucky make himself at home, dumping his bags on the coffee table and heading to the kitchen for a pair of glasses.

‘Because I haven’t seen you in a few weeks and I feel like I’m being a bad boyfriend.’

Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, you’re not wrong.’

Bucky sighed as he set the glasses on the table beside the bags, taking a moment to unzip the backpack and pull out the first bottle of vodka. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. Things have just been crazy, and my parents are pressuring me so much, I just… I really need to cut loose for a while, okay?’

Steve looked unconvinced. ‘Is that your attempt at grovelling? You haven’t answered my calls or texts for over a week, Bucky. I haven’t seen you for nearly _three weeks_ , and you’re showing up saying you want to get drunk.’

‘Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, I really am. I just really wanted to get this damn person so I could finish that part of my life for good and we can like… live normally. Without this hanging over our heads.’

‘Over _your_ head, Bucky. You don’t tell me anything that’s going on with you.’

‘I’m trying, Steve. I don’t tell you anything because I _can’t_.’ Bucky uncapped the vodka and poured some into each glass. He held one out to Steve and gave him puppy dog eyes. ‘Please?’

Steve took one of the glasses and downed the shot. ‘This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.’

‘I know. Once I’m done with this, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.’

‘You better. I don’t like being kept in the dark.’

‘I know,’ Bucky nodded refilling their glasses and clinking them together.

Four beers and five shots later, Bucky was definitely not sober. Steve, who was two beers and three shots behind, was definitely not drunk, and was watching as his inebriated boyfriend waltzed around the room to Bon Jovi.

‘You know,’ Bucky said, collapsing onto Steve’s couch with a sigh. ‘I really like you.’

‘Comforting, thank you,’ Steve said, amused. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I don’t like lying to people I like as much as you.’

‘What are you lying to me about?’

Bucky took a long, deep breath and blew it out as a raspberry. ‘Well, me.’

‘Do you want to elaborate on that?’ Steve asked, the amusement fading. He didn’t like being lied to, probably more so than Bucky didn’t like lying to him.

‘’m not allowed.’

Steve narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘You want to elaborate _anyway_?’ he said, sliding a hint of persuasion magic into his tone.

Bucky laughed. ‘Mm, maybe I could.’

Steve waited for a few moments. ‘So?’ he prompted.

Bucky turned to look at Steve with a dopey smile. ‘Magic.’

The blood in Steve’s veins froze. ‘What?’

Bucky leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘It’s real.’ He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers, as black ink started appearing on them. ‘Cool, huh?’

Steve blinked and took Bucky’s hand gently. These were not the markings of a witch. ‘Bucky,’ he whispered, afraid his voice would break if he raised the volume any higher.

‘’m not a witch, or a wizard, or a… warlock,’ Bucky turned his hands over in Steve’s to show his palms, where more tattoos were. ‘I hunt them though.’

Steve didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say, or how to act, or how to keep his fear from showing. He doubted Bucky would remember it, but he wasn’t about to take chances. ‘But magic isn’t real,’ he said quietly.

Bucky grinned and took his hands back, balling one into a fist and concentrating. After a few moments, something like electric sparks began dancing over his skin. He slowly opened his hand, revealing a small ball of light hovering over his palm. ‘Yeah, it is.’

That was when Steve started to _really_ freak out. ‘No,’ he said, standing and walking a few steps from Bucky. ‘No, no, no.’

‘Cool, huh?’ Bucky said, snapping the fingers of his other hand, making the ball disperse and disappear. ‘I’ve been after these witches for _months_ , and I can’t find them. They have fake trails everywhere… It’s really annoying.’

Steve didn’t know what to say. After that kid turned up one day, then left the next with nothing but a quick apology and a scared glance behind himself, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only witches around. That meant Bucky was after them, even if he didn’t know it.

Which, clearly, he didn’t, or they would not be having this conversation. Steve didn’t know what to do. How had he missed this? How had _either_ of them missed this?

‘I think you’re drunk, Bucky,’ Steve said, fighting to keep his voice calm, and suddenly all too aware of the glamour he had over his skin.

‘’m _definitely_ drunk,’ Bucky agreed, as he flopped over onto his side, nestling into the pillows of Steve’s couch. ‘Think I’m gonna nap.’

‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Steve agreed hollowly.

‘Pity,’ Bucky sighed, wiggling into a better position. ‘Was hoping we’d bang.’

‘Oh.’ Steve needed to go sit down and think about this for a while. ‘Well, good night.’

‘Mm, night.’

Steve waited until he was sure Bucky was asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, before he headed to his room. He couldn’t have Bucky see him freak out like this.

‘Shit,’ he muttered, pacing the floor and rubbing his hands over his hair. How could he let this happen? How could he have let a _hunter_ get so close to him? He hadn’t picked up anything from Bucky, his wards had let him in… he had no trace of magic on him. Sam had said he was _clean_.

Fuck, they were all so wrong, but now Steve knew, he could deal with it.

The question was _how_ he was going to deal with this. Wipe Bucky’s memory? Leave? Wipe his memory _and_ leave? Steve didn’t want to do either of those things. Despite the last few weeks, Steve was pretty damn sure he loved Bucky, and it wasn’t something he wanted to give up, even if it meant risking his life and those of his friends.

Maybe that was selfish of him, maybe it was the worst idea he’d ever had, but maybe… Maybe he just didn’t care.


	5. Under My Skin

‘Hey, Clint?’ Steve said, taking a crate of chocolates off him.

Clint turned back to him from the crate of his truck. ‘What’s up?’

‘Have you ever… I mean. Have you ever dated someone and known they weren’t good for you?’

Clint raised an eyebrow. ‘Asking for a friend or are you trying to warn me off Nat?’

Steve shrugged. ‘Whichever makes you feel better.’

Clint frowned. ‘I mean… Yeah. Everyone does. You live and you learn, I guess.’

‘But what if they were _really_ bad. Like… Someone might _die_ , bad?’

‘Has Nat killed someone?’

_Probably._ ‘No, absolutely not,’ Steve said, doing his best to laugh it off. It sounded more hysterical to his ears than anything. Whoops. ‘I’m just saying… What would you do?’

‘Break it off. You’d be an idiot if you kept going, wouldn’t you?’ Clint said, taking another crate of chocolates and handing them to Steve. ‘Is this about Bucky?’

Steve opened and closed his mouth. ‘What do you mean?’

Clint rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t think any of your friends are actually what they claim to be,’ he said, tapping his left shoulder and pulling a fucking _bow_ out of nowhere. Clint grinned, then did the same action in reverse, spinning in a circle to show his lack of quiver on his back. ‘Cool, huh?’

‘What _are_ you?’

Clint huffed. ‘A breed of warrior decoy, the rest long since dead. I can hear what you’re thinking.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Steve muttered, probing Clint’s mind with his magic and coming up clean. ‘What the _fuck_?’

‘You can’t get in my mind, you can’t pick up on any of _my_ magic, and you can’t tell Natasha.’

‘Why not?’

‘She’ll try to kill me, because I was assigned to protect her by someone she didn’t trust – her father.’

Steve frowned. ‘So you’re like… really old.’

‘Really, _really_ old,’ Clint nodded. ‘So, Bucky, huh? Fucking a hunter. Interesting choice.’

‘Wait, if you know he’s a hunter, can _you_ get in his mind? Scratch that, why didn’t you say anything?’

‘I’m here to stop Nat getting killed and that’s it. No interfering. Besides, I’ve tried,’ Clint sighed. ‘I can’t pick up any illicit thoughts, just like you. I can’t dig through his mind to find anything, either. I don’t know what his deal is, but if his _mind_ is warded, you probably don’t wanna mess with him.’

‘Shit,’ Steve groaned. ‘What do I _do_?’

‘No idea,’ Clint said honestly. ‘I guess it depends on whether you trust him not to kill you.’

‘He hasn’t _yet_.’

‘He also doesn’t know you’re a _witch_. Do you think he would change his mind if he knew?’

‘I…’ Steve shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, you better figure it out before he does,’ Clint shrugged, effectively ending the conversation by closing the back doors of his truck. ‘When you decide what to do, let me know if you need any help.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve said quietly. ‘Thanks.’

 

* * *

 

Steve had been thinking. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Bucky yet, didn’t know if he could ever decide what to _do_ about him, but he had been thinking about what he would give up for him.

They had been together for this long without the other discovering their secret, so why couldn’t they go for longer? Steve loved Bucky, even if he hadn’t said it out loud, and he didn’t think anything would change that, but now he was faced with the knowledge that Bucky was actively hunting people like him, and had done so in the past. The fact that Bucky had said he didn’t like what he used to do didn’t matter, because Steve knew what he was capable of, and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to feel safe around him again.

He could _try_ to ignore it, and he would do his best to do that until he decided _what to do_ , but there would always be that thought, lingering on the edges of his mind. Bucky could kill him. No matter what Bucky thought, if he ever came to learn of Steve’s magic, Bucky _would_ kill him. Steve didn’t know much about hunters, their customs, traditions, _magic_ , but he knew that they were genetically disposed to falling under command of their elders. Some weird hierarchy thing.

Bucky would be forced to listen to his elders – in this case, his parents, clearly – and he would bend to their will, and do what they asked, whether or not he wanted to. Steve had to stop himself from thinking that the fact Bucky had managed to leave their… profession was a promising sign. Maybe he wasn’t as under their influence as other hunters Steve had faced were.

The chances were astronomically small that Bucky wouldn’t kill him, that he would be happy and free to live with Steve, and to _love_ Steve for who he was. That thought led to Steve asking himself what he would be willing to risk on the off chance that Bucky _was_ an anomaly.

Or rather, _who_ he would be willing to risk.

Clint was a newer friend who had offered to help _deal_ with Bucky, so apparently he wasn’t an issue. Sam was a much older friend, going back a couple of hundred years. Despite that it was his job and his decision to protect Steve (and Natasha) from harm, Steve didn’t think he could wilfully put him in the line of fire.

And Natasha. Oh God, definitely not Natasha.

They had been together for over four hundred years after the death of Steve’s family, when his entire village had been decimated by hunters. She had come to his aid, and maybe it was because of a deal with Steve’s mother, but Natasha had gone above and beyond the call of duty by sticking with him all this time. She had taught him things he didn’t know were even possible, and continued to impart her wisdom to this day.

There was no way in hell Steve would want to see her hurt because of him, not after all she had done for him.

‘You’re looking broody. What’s up?’

Steve looked up from the workbench at the sound of Natasha’s voice, to see her watching him carefully from the doorway. ‘Huh?’

‘Something on your mind?’ she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Bucky, perhaps?’

Steve shook his head slowly and tried not to think too carefully. Natasha would pick up on it in an instant, sort through his head, and Bucky would be dead by this afternoon. ‘Nope. Haven’t seen him in a few days.’

‘Is that a good thing? Are you guys going through a rough patch?’

‘No, he’s just… busy. With his felon.’

Natasha nodded. ‘I get you. Well, he’s here to see you.’

Steve tried to keep a straight face, but his eyes must have betrayed him, because Nat narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Steve could feel her trying to get into his head. ‘I can tell him to go, if you want.’

‘No, no,’ Steve said quickly. ‘I’ll see him. Send him in.’

‘Mhmm, well call out if you need me,’ she said, tapping her temple.

Steve nodded, and Nat left, giving Steve mere moments to sort himself and his story for avoiding Bucky. It had been four days, and he hadn’t replied to texts or called him at all. The only reason Bucky probably hadn’t called the cops was because he would’ve seen Steve opening his snapchats.

‘Hey,’ Bucky said, coming into the workroom and embracing Steve, pulling him close. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’

Steve melted with a sigh, letting himself put his arms around Bucky and trying not to be too stiff. ‘Sorry.’

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ Bucky said, taking a step back, but putting his hands on Steve’s face, turning his head gently as he checked for… something. ‘Are you okay? You’ve been ignoring me for days.’

‘I’m fine,’ Steve murmured. ‘Sorry for worrying you.’

‘What happened? Did I say something? Did I _do_ something?’

Steve bit his lip and shook his head. ‘No, wasn’t you. Just needed to clear my head for a bit.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Bucky asked.

‘No, it’s just…’ Steve watched Bucky raise an eyebrow and decided whatever he was going to say as an excuse had better be good to make Bucky get off his back. ‘My, uh. The anniversary of my parents’ death is coming up.’

Bucky face instantly softened. ‘Oh, Steve.’

_Nailed it._ Steve shrugged. ‘It’s been a long time, but it still gets me, y’know?’

‘Yeah, I understand. Do you want me to just... keep giving you some space? For a few days?’

‘Just for a few days,’ Steve nodded, jumping at the opportunity to work through his current dilemma by himself.

‘Okay,’ Bucky gave him a small smile. ‘I just came to check you were still breathing, but text me when you’re ready, yeah?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Steve said, returning the smile and accepting a kiss from Bucky. ‘Be good.’

‘Always,’ Bucky winked, exiting the workroom.

Steve waited until he was around the corner of the door before he let go of the breath he was holding. He clutched the bench and leaned over, shutting his eyes and forcing air in and out of his lungs. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. He didn’t know if he could do this.

‘Why are you lying to him?’ Natasha asked, reappearing in the doorway.

‘Jesus,’ Steve gasped, snapping upright. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Being nosy.’ Natasha crossed her arms and leaned against the jamb. ‘What’s up? I know you’re hiding something. Not sure if it’s from me, but definitely from Bucky. Your parents died in the spring, and it’s not even winter.’

Steve shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’m just… I’m having a weird week.’

‘I can tell. What’s up?’

‘ _Nothing_ ,’ Steve repeated. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course. Do I need to close shop?’ Nat asked.

‘Depends,’ Steve shrugged. ‘Why did you take me on after my parents died?’

Natasha let out a long, level breath. She flicked her hand towards the door and nodded towards the office. ‘Shop’s closed. We’re gonna have a chat.’

Steve followed her and dropped into his beat-up office chair. ‘Do I get the story now?’

Natasha kicked her feet up onto the desk between them and folded her hands over her stomach. ‘Well, it’s not really a story I’ve been keeping from you. You’ve just never asked.’

‘I spent a good fifty years being shit scared of you, so I was afraid to,’ Steve grinned. ‘Can’t believe I ever found you so terrifying.’

Natasha grinned and her face flickered briefly, showing pointed teeth, cat’s eyes, and inked skin. ‘I can.’

Steve fought the prick of fear at the nape of his neck and coughed quietly, receiving a laugh from Nat for his transparent effort at seeming unaffected by her little show.

‘It was before your family came here, about a hundred and fifty years before. Even at that time, I was considered _old_ , but despite the length of time I had already spent on this Earth, I was still… naïve.’

‘Am I finally going to find out how old you actually are?’ Steve teased. ‘You’re showing your age, Nat.’

‘Never ask a lady her age,’ Nat shot him a look, and Steve at least had the decency to look sheepish. ‘But you might figure it out, yeah. I went to England as part of a… _migration_ of witches, I suppose. We didn’t consider ourselves witches, just people blessed by the Gods with life, and in tune with nature. We didn’t know anything of hunters, because we were never _hunted_ in our homeland. We were… not worshipped, but we were respected.’

Steve frowned. What Nat was telling him was sounding familiar. Once, his mother had mentioned in passing an ancient people that had come to England, before it was _England_ , those who were not entirely human. He wondered if Natasha was one of them.

‘You okay?’ Nat raised an eyebrow at Steve’s expression, but he didn’t feel her trying to invade his mind.

‘Yeah, I’m good. Go on.’

‘Okay, so when I got to England, I was expecting the same sort of reception, right? That I could find a community of people who believed in the same things I did, the same _Gods_ , yeah? Instead, as I travelled, completely without a glamour because I’d never needed to use one, I found myself being stared at for other reasons. People would come out of these halls – which turned out to be _churches_ , I later discovered – and they would call me a devil.

‘I started hiding bits of myself, started putting a glamour over…’ Nat rolled her eyes and gestured broadly around her head with an annoyed huff. ‘This.’

‘Right.’

‘And as I travelled, people stopped staring so much at me, but still gave me weird looks because I didn’t see a need to cover the tattoos on my hands. There were people in villages that I went to that had tattoos on _their_ faces, on their shaved heads, and I wondered why I was still being stared at, even though there was less of it.’ Nat smiled. ‘Should’ve seen it coming, but like I said, I was naïve.’

‘They were hunters, right?’ Steve said. ‘Like early hunters, the ones staring at you.’

Natasha nodded. ‘I had a run in with some, but I managed to escape, so I jumped on the next boat to Francia and spent some time there. Quite a lot of time, actually, but that was where I learned to do the GPS thing you’re always telling me off about.’

‘Francia?’ Steve asked.

Nat inclined her head and gave a small laugh. ‘Like I said, I’m showing my age.’

Steve made a mental note to look it up when he got home. ‘Uh, so, Francia.’

‘Yeah. I went back to England, and would you fucking believe it, I was there for like a month before a bunch of hunters turned up and tried to kill my ass. Again. So I was basically waving at the reaper like _“Hey, it’s been a long time coming, nice to meet you!”_ and your mother turns up and like… I don’t even know what she did, but when I woke up, I was in her house, being nursed back to life.’

‘My mother saved you from hunters?’ Steve said, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

‘She did,’ Nat nodded. ‘And she had taken me home, despite only being… maybe twenty or so. Actually twenty, not just looking it. I had lost my glamour, due to, y’know, essentially being dead, and she was completely nonplussed about it all. The eyes, the teeth, the ink… she didn’t care. I was scared when I woke up, thinking maybe she wanted to kill me, or use me or something, but she showed me she had tattoos just like mine.’

Steve watched Nat pushed up her sleeve and dropped the glamour over a sigil on her wrist, a looping, twisting thing. He had the same one in the same place, done by his mother when he turned eleven. He had always thought it was just for protection or something, because his family had it, and Nat had it, and well… Steve hadn’t exactly met a lot of other witches. He’d never bothered to ask what it was, figuring he already knew the answer, but from the way Nat was looking at it, he was starting to think there was more to it. ‘What is that one?’ he asked, rubbing his own.

‘This,’ Nat said, looking up and putting the glamour back over it. ‘This is the family crest.’

‘Family crest?’ Steve blinked. ‘Wait, are we related?’

Nat shrugged. ‘Very distantly. Very, very distantly. I’m probably like… an aunt nine times removed or something, who knows. I never had children, but I had plenty of cousins and siblings, and I’m sure some of them procreated and moved to England at some point.’

‘Shit.’

‘But that was how I knew I could trust her,’ Nat said, moving on from this revelation. ‘I owed her a life debt, but your mother wanted something else. She asked instead that should anything ever happen to her, or her husband, that I would take over the care of any children they might have, should they need me. She gave me a stone, just a pebble she found somewhere, and told me that if it burned or glowed, then she was at risk, and the debt would be called to action.’

Steve nodded. ‘Did my mother ask you to stick with me for this long?’

Natasha laughed. ‘No, just until you were ready.’

‘Am I ready yet? Not that I’m trying to get rid of you,’ he quickly backtracked.

‘You’ve been ready so long, Steve. You could’ve chosen to leave less than fifty years after I found you, and it would’ve been okay. Like, you wouldn’t know half the things you do now, but you would be okay. I gave you a basic skill set almost immediately. Everything since then has just been additional.’

‘So…’ Steve frowned. ‘You’re only still teaching me things… because you like me?’

‘Something like that,’ she grinned. ‘I think I got a bit too attached to you. I’m glad I did, actually. You’re probably my best friend.’

‘Don’t hold back on those emotions,’ Steve teased. ‘Me too.’

‘Well, as my best friend,’ Natasha announced. ‘You’re required to tell me all your secrets.’

_Crap._ ‘Which secrets might those be?’

‘Whatever you’re hiding from Bucky.’

Steve sighed. ‘Can you trust me to tell you when you _need_ to know?’

‘Is it bad?’

‘It’s definitely not good. I just need time to think about it, okay?’

Nat huffed in frustration. ‘I suppose.’

‘Thank you,’ Steve looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Should probably reopen the shop.’

‘Probably,’ Nat agreed. ‘But first, promise me it’s nothing dangerous, whatever you’re hiding. Even if you’re lying, tell me it’s not gonna put anyone in the way of harm.’

‘I promise.’

Natasha could read the worry in his eyes, but she nodded anyway, pretending for both their sakes she believed him.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky opened his door, he was not expecting to see his sister there. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as she huffed and pushed past him, going directly to drop on his couch. ‘Becca?’ he finally said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Becca rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone, reading from the text Bucky had sent her three days ago. ‘“ _I think I did something stupid and you’re smarter than me so please give me some advice.”_ Sound familiar?’

‘Some of it,’ Bucky said, because he didn’t think he said she was smarter than him, but then again, he was freaking out when he sent the text so who knew?

‘So what’s this stupid thing you did?’

Bucky cringed, knowing the level of volume his sister was about to reach would get progressively higher in pitch as well. ‘I think, I mean, I was really drunk at the time, but I think I might have accidentally, y’know, sort of told someone? About magic? Maybe made a little glowing ball thing but I might be imagining that part.’

Becca blinked slowly and let out a level breath. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay? Is that all you want to say?’

She shrugged and kicked her feet up onto his coffee table. ‘I mean, it’s not like you can take it back, is it? Who was it?’

‘My, uh… my boyfriend,’ Bucky blushed.

There was a beat, before Becca’s face split into a wide grin. ‘Boyfriend, huh? Of how long? What’s his name? Is he hot?’

‘Almost five months, Steve, very.’

‘Got a photo?’

Bucky tossed her his phone and said simply, ‘Lockscreen.’

Becca hit the home button and the screen was lit up with a selfie Bucky and Steve had taken about a month ago. It was a warm evening and they had decided to go for a quick walk in the park, then noticed the sun setting behind them. It seemed like a cheesy, rom-com moment, and they wanted to seize it, so they seized the moment.

Becca pursed her lips and threw her brother the phone back without comment.

‘Thoughts?’

‘I have no thoughts.’

‘Yes you do.’

‘None you want to hear.’

_Oh._ ‘Good or bad?’

‘Well, I mean, I’d bang –’

‘ _Never mind_ ,’ Bucky said loudly. ‘I’m sorry I asked!’

Becca laughed. ‘I’m joking. He’s hot though. I’m glad you’re tapping that if I can’t.’

‘Yeah, well. I haven’t in a while, and I think he’s ignoring me.’

‘Because you think you might’ve revealed it to him.’

Bucky nodded. ‘I want to tell him and stop keeping this shit from him because I… I…’

‘Love him?’

‘I love him,’ Bucky confirmed quietly.

Becca’s face softened. ‘I’ll support you no matter what you choose to do. If he dumps you, I’ll help you pick up the pieces, if he sticks with you and you end up married, I’ll be your celebrant. Ride or die, right?’

‘Ride or die,’ Bucky smiled, bumping his fist against her outstretched one. ‘But seriously, what do I do? Do I admit the whole thing to him? What?’

‘I mean…’ Becca shrugged. ‘You could just leave it. He might be ignoring you for some other reason. You’ve always been a very vivid dreamer, so maybe you didn’t actually do anything and this is all in your head.’

Bucky ducked his head a little. ‘He did say it’s coming up to the anniversary of his parents’ death.’

‘That’s a good reason to be moody, I think.’ Becca leaned forward and put her hand gently on his arm. ‘It’s not you, Buck. Probably. Just let it simmer and see how things go. You have time to make a decision, yeah?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ he murmured. ‘Procrastination is king.’

‘Exactly.’

 

* * *

 

‘Whatcha doing?’ Nat asked, sidling up to Steve, who was stood in front of her bookcases, pulling grimoires off the shelves and piling them into his arms. ‘Research?’

‘Yeah,’ Steve huffed, going over to the dining table and carefully putting them down. ‘Research.’

‘On?’ she prodded, flipping open a book to see the contents page. ‘Memory spells, object displacement, heartlines… Heartlines?’ Nat looked up, shutting the book with a quiet _thud_. ‘Is this about Bucky?’

‘No, it’s research,’ Steve said unconvincingly. ‘Just in case.’

‘In case of what? Are you planning to leave?’

‘In case of emergencies. I just want to make sure I’m all up to date with it.’

‘These books are hundreds of years old. If anything, they’re out of date.’

Steve said nothing, just sat at the table and started flicking through the next book in the pile, jotting down notes on the paper he had at his elbow.

Natasha sighed and put the book back on the pile. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

 

* * *

 

The weeks had passed, and Steve’s heart was still in his throat about everything. He couldn’t talk to anyone about this, and he didn’t know what to do, but he _did_ know that he hated living in such an anxiety ridden state like this. He loved Bucky, but he couldn’t go on like this, so that pretty much made up his mind for him.

Steve didn’t want to do this, he knew he didn’t, but he’d done it before to people he loved, so it wasn’t like this was a new experience for him, and it wasn’t like it was going to hurt any less.

He thought that maybe things were going to end by themselves after he had pushed Bucky away somewhat with the lie about his parents. If anything, Bucky came back to him stronger and more empathetic less than a week later, announcing himself at Steve’s apartment with a fresh baked lasagne and apple pie. He had been making an effort to see Steve every day since, and all the while, Steve was feeling less and less sure about everything – his decision to love Bucky, to let him go, to stop things from going too far.

Steve didn’t know which way was up, and a quick, painful end to this relationship seemed like the only thing that would stop him from drowning in all the worry building up in him.

And all of this came together in Steve’s mind one night after Bucky’s drunken revelation when they were sitting down to watch Netflix one night.

‘Buck,’ Steve said, keeping his voice level. ‘I just want to talk to you about something.’

Bucky turned his attention away from the screen and sat up, taking his feet off the coffee table when he heard the edge to Steve’s words. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘It’s just…’ Steve pursed his lips and took a deep breath, standing up and pacing the room. ‘Something you said a few weeks ago.’

‘A few weeks ago?’ Bucky raised an eyebrow. ‘And you’re only bringing it up now? Babe, you know you can talk to me.’

‘Not… not about this.’

Bucky’s expression changed, as concern knitted his brow. ‘Steve, you’re kinda scaring me here.’

_You have no idea._ ‘I don’t know if you remember or not, but you were pretty drunk, and you were complaining about your parents, and your job…’

Bucky’s face changed again as he became more guarded, stiffening in his seat. ‘What did I say?’

‘You said…’ _Here we go._ ‘You said you hunt… witches.’

Bucky sagged with relief and stood up to put his hands on Steve’s arms, rubbing them slowly in an attempt to comfort him somehow. ‘Oh, babe, I didn’t mean _actual_ witches, I meant like, the people are bad, like using the term “witch” in _that_ way. Did I scare you? I wasn’t serious, I –’

‘Yes,’ Steve said quietly, taking a step back out of Bucky’s reach. ‘You were serious.’

‘I wasn’t, Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ Bucky said, trying to keep the hurt off his face that Steve had moved away.

‘Well, you did,’ Steve’s voice shook slightly, as he moved his fingers to the neck of his shirt, preparing to pull it off. _No going back after this._ ‘I know you didn’t mean to, but you did.’

‘Steve,’ Bucky said, watching him as he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. ‘Steve, what are you doing?’

‘You didn’t mean to scare me, Buck, but I’ve been scared for so long,’ Steve whispered. ‘So long. I saw it coming, I felt it coming, I felt _you_ as you got closer…’

‘Steve…’ Bucky’s voice was hoarse, and his face dropped in disbelief.

Steve sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as he allowed the glamour over his skin to fade. The runes of old, lines of text, and ancient symbols that were inked into his skin began appearing before Bucky’s eyes. From the edge of Steve’s jaw, down his throat, over his shoulders, torso, and arms, continuing down under his sweatpants where Bucky couldn’t see, and ending with the leaves tattooed across the tops of his feet.

As Steve cupped his hands together in front of himself, the newly appeared tattoos on his fingers, of lines and dots and smaller symbols, seemed to glow as Steve created a small ball of light in his palms. ‘I knew you were serious,’ he said quietly. ‘Because you showed me how you could do this.’

For the first time since Steve had removed his shirt, he looked up to Bucky, unsure what he would see on his face.

Bucky looked like he didn’t know how he should be feeling. There wasn’t… fear. There wasn’t anger, or hatred, or anything like that.

Bucky was just… blank.

Steve dropped his hands, keeping the ball of light hovering at chest height. ‘So I am scared, because I know you’re prepared to hurt me and mine,’ Steve said, taking a deep breath and letting his muscles relax. ‘But I am nowhere near as scared as you would be if you knew what I was capable of.’

‘Steve,’ Bucky said, doing his best not to sound completely wrecked. ‘I… How did you keep this from me? How _could_ you?’

‘What do you mean how could I?’ Steve shook his head. ‘I’ve been hiding from people like you since I first came to this country. Hunters killed my family over four hundred years ago, Bucky, and I’ve been trying to avoid the same fate as them, so you’ll have to _excuse_ me if I don’t immediately go around telling everyone I can create _fire_ with my mind, and draw enough water from the air to drown someone while they’re standing in a fucking _desert_.’

Steve took a deep breath and killed the ball of light in front of him. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Bucky. Despite who – despite _what_ you are.’

‘What are you going to do to me, then?’ Bucky asked, his voice small, as he looked over the tattoos spanning Steve’s body. ‘You have more… magic on you than any other witch I’ve ever seen.’

‘I’m not the oldest witch around these parts, not by a long shot,’ Steve huffed. ‘Thing is, I love you, Bucky. More than you know, and more than you’ll ever realise.’

‘I love you, Stevie, I would never –’

‘You would,’ Steve interrupted quietly. ‘We both know you would, because your parents have a heavy grip on you.’

‘I –’

‘I love you,’ Steve continued. ‘But I can’t have you remember me. I can’t have you know who I am, or I’m putting myself and everyone I love in danger, so… I have to sacrifice this. I’m sorry, Bucky. I hoped it would never come to this.’

‘Steve, please,’ Bucky begged. ‘We can run away, we can leave, we can –’

‘No,’ Steve said firmly, cutting Bucky off again, leaving the other man with his mouth agape and tears in his eyes. ‘We can’t. Once my people realise what you are, as I have, they will kill you, Bucky. I can’t have you hunting me, hunting _them_. I can’t have them hurting you, so this is for the best.’

Steve put his hands on either side of Bucky’s face. ‘This is for the best,’ he repeated. ‘I love you, Bucky, but this is what’s best.’

Steve concentrated hard, pulling memories of himself, and Nat, and Sam, from Bucky’s mind, as the other man’s eyes rolled back into his head. He had done this before, many times. But this time, as Steve removed his mark on Bucky, he left something in their wake.

He had never done it before, and with anyone other than Bucky, he wouldn’t have bothered. Steve’s mother had once told him of heartlines – what you could put in place to lead a lover back to you. Natasha had never actively taught him anything of heartlines, but Steve had read over her collection of grimoires and figured he knew enough, should a situation like this arise, what with the innocent research he had conducted recently.

So, as Steve cleared Bucky’s mind, he left a map right back to him.

The heartlines.

 

* * *

 

Natasha wasn’t quite asleep when there was a knock on her door. It could only be Steve or Sam, but both of them would’ve called if it was important, or at least sent a text to say they were coming. The only time they didn’t was when they were drunk, and seeing as it was a Sunday, that seemed unlikely.

Nevertheless, she got out of bed, prepared to face whoever it was. She opened the door to see Steve with a backpack on, and her stomach dropped. ‘What’s going on, Steve?’

Steve looked around the hall behind him before he ducked in. He didn’t take the bag off, and he was giving off waves of stressed and restless energy. Natasha had to take a couple of deep breaths to force them off herself and keep herself calm. ‘It’s Bucky.’

‘What about Bucky?’ she asked gently.

Steve answered with a whine, and his mind opened up to her like a floodgate. The ball of light in _Bucky’s_ hands, _Bucky’s_ skin covered with magic sigils, _Bucky_ saying he…

‘Oh God,’ she breathed. ‘He’s the hunter.’

Steve nodded frantically, looking like he was on the edge of tears. ‘He’s the hunter,’ he confirmed.

Natasha rushed over to him and pulled him into her arms, forcing soothing energy over him. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay, don’t worry, we’ll deal with it.’

‘No,’ Steve said immediately. ‘I got us into this, I’m going to get us out.’

‘Steve, what are you going to do? You can’t sacrifice yourself to save me. He has to be –’

‘No,’ he said again. ‘I’m dealing with it. I’m going to lead him away from you, and Sam, and Clint, I’m going to deal with it.’

‘Clint? Why is Clint involved in this?’

‘I don’t have time to explain,’ Steve shook his head. ‘I wiped Bucky’s memories of us all, and I’m going to lead him away. I’ll be fine. Just look after Hazel and Birch for me? Please, Nat.’

‘Of course,’ Natasha said. ‘I’ll bring them here. They can play with Val.’

Steve nodded. ‘Thank you. I have to go, but I’ll keep us safe. I’ll keep _you_ safe. I owe you that much.’

‘You owe me nothing, Steve.’

‘Call it a debt for saving my miserable ass all those years ago,’ Steve said, resting his chin on her head for a moment before releasing her. ‘I need to go. Everything will be okay.’

‘I’ll worry every single second you’re gone.’

‘Don’t worry about me. It’ll be okay.’

‘Stop saying that, you sound like you’re going on a mission you won’t return from,’ Nat said suspiciously, as she watched Steve head back to the door. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

Steve smiled ruefully. ‘Not gonna make a promise I can’t keep.’

Natasha narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ll kill you if you get yourself killed, Steve.’

‘I know. Love you too,’ he said, nodding once from the doorway, before he disappeared from sight, and the door swung shut.

Natasha might have been putting on a brave front while he was here, but the second Steve was gone, she let herself break down. She didn’t think she wasn’t going to see him again, and if she did, he wasn’t going to be the same person that just left her apartment.

 

* * *

 

‘You ready?’ Clint asked, when Steve got back to his car.

Steve shook his head. ‘No, but I don’t think I have much of a choice. I need to keep them safe.’

Clint hummed and started up the engine, heading away from Nat’s apartment. ‘They’re not in danger. If you set a trap and you get Bucky to go after you, then he’ll leave this place, and he won’t care if he doesn’t get all of you. He promised one, and if you’re that one…’ Clint trailed off and shrugged. ‘I’m not saying you should die to protect them –’

‘It’s what I’m prepared to do,’ Steve interrupted. ‘If I’m all it takes to keep them safe –’

‘You don’t _need_ to die, Steve. You can deal with this, you know that, right? If you need me to help you, I will. I’ll even deliver the final blow if you can’t.’

Steve shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, Clint.’

‘No, I understand. I can get in your head better than you can, Steve.’

‘I don’t want… I don’t want to live in a world where one of us is running and one of us is hunting the other. I want to _be_ with him. If one of us dies, it’s going to be me. If it’s him, I’m not far behind.’

‘Pal, you didn’t make a suicide pact with him, and don’t lie to me and say you did,’ Clint rolled his eyes. ‘You did this because you thought it was your only option, so just get in and get out. Do what you have to, but I don’t want to be the one that finds your stupid ass dead somewhere, and then has to haul it back to Natasha, because we _both_ know she’ll shoot the messenger.’

‘I’m not going to do anything stupid,’ Steve murmured. ‘I have it sorted. I’m just saying.’

Clint was quiet for a few moments as they drove. ‘Heartlines,’ he said. ‘Interesting.’

‘Think it’ll work?’

Clint shrugged. ‘Be interesting to find out, won’t it?’

‘You’re not wrong.’

Their conversation died off after a few other comments – about Nat, Sam, Bucky – which left Steve with just his thoughts.

The way the heartlines were supposed to act was to be a map, of sorts. They would lead a lover back to their magical partner, and were usually only put in place in times of war, or emergencies, when they would have to be separated and it was safer for the mortal to forget they ever knew or loved a witch. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. If they did, then the mortal would get all their memories back, once reunited with their witch.

The thing about Bucky, however, was that he was now _hunting_ Steve, and if he was as good as he said he was, then he would find his way to Steve anyway. The only time Steve would know whether he was following the heartlines would be when they met face to face. If they failed, Bucky would kill Steve. If they didn’t, well… Steve would still have to risk getting himself killed.

But was Bucky worth it?

 

* * *

 

After what felt like hours of driving, Clint came to stop at the edge of a forest. Steve looked out the window with anticipation. He knew that he would have the upper hand out here, and if Bucky was going to be tracking and actively trying to kill him, then Steve at least wanted home court advantage.

‘You’ll be okay out here? With just those two bags?’ Clint raised an eyebrow as Steve hauled a duffle bag over the seat from the back.

Steve grinned. ‘How does that song go? You ain’t seen nothing yet?’

‘Alright, show-off. Get your ass in the fucking trees. Check in every now and then, okay?’

‘Yeah, I will. Don’t let Nat come after me. Don’t let her put herself at risk to draw Bucky back away from me, okay? Because that’s the sort of move she would pull.’

‘I won’t. She’ll stay exactly where she’s supposed to be,’ Clint nodded. ‘You have my word.’

Steve nodded once and opened the door to get out. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

‘No problem. Don’t get yourself killed!’ Clint added with a wave, as Steve turned and disappeared into the trees.

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke up to his phone going off wildly beside his head. Strange. He didn’t remember falling asleep on his couch. He must’ve, though, because his TV was playing on a low volume, and he… Well. He had just woken up.

He shook himself slightly and answered his phone. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘That’s no way to greet your mother,’ Winifred chided. ‘We’ve got magical activity. A lot of it.’

Bucky perked up. _Finally_. He had been waiting for this so he could… What had he been wanting to do? There had to have been something. It was important, too. Not important enough to ignore this call and think about, though. ‘What is it?’

Winifred sighed, clearly not pleased Bucky hadn’t changed his attitude towards her. ‘A clean trail has been picked up. Clean and _strong_. We need you to check it out and see where it came from and where it’s going.’

‘Meaning you want me to catch up and kill it, right?’ Bucky translated.

‘Don’t sound so surprised, James. We made a deal and you haven’t delivered your end yet.’

‘Hmm. I’ll see what I can do,’ Bucky replied, hanging up without waiting for a reply. The last thing he needed was a lecture from her.

He looked wistfully towards his TV, already wanting to just stay home and watch whatever was playing on the screen. Maybe watch some Netflix. That movie about bees was supposed to be good, right? He could watch it later. For now, he got off his couch, grabbed his phone and jacket, and was out the door.

He picked up on the trail almost immediately. All Bucky had to was walk to the corner of his street before he ran headfirst into it. ‘Jesus,’ he murmured. The air was thick with it, all bright and shiny and only hours old. The trail was definitely from a witch, not a decoy, and there was no suggestion the witch had made an effort to disguise their tracks.

That meant one of two things: Either he was walking directly into a trap, or this witch was young and inexperienced, and God, he hoped it was the latter. It would suck if he had to kill off an entire coven, especially when he had promised his mother to deal with just one individual.

Bucky just wanted to do his time and get it over with. This had been dragging on for too damn long, and he was bored of it, now. This was the last time, and he would be out. He could almost taste the freedom.

But for now, he had some tracking to do.

He decided to take his bike, because he remembered being stranded somewhere and needing to take an Uber recently, and seeing as he didn’t know how long this trail would be, he didn’t want to risk that again.

Much to Bucky’s delight, it was a pretty straightforward trail. The witch seemed to know where it was going, and wasn’t twisting back on itself or anything like that. Bucky’s delight quickly faded when he followed it right to the edge of a forest. _Fuck._

‘Looks like I’m going camping,’ Bucky muttered, starting his bike up and heading back home.

He wasn’t about to take his bike out to the middle of nowhere and leave it there for god knows how long, so as he packed a bag, he called his Mom. He was pretty sure she would still be awake, because whenever she used to call him in the middle of the night, she would wait up for him to report his findings back.

‘James? What did you find?’ Winifred answered, not bothering with pleasantries in the same way Bucky didn’t bother with when he answered.

‘I need you or dad or Becca to give me a lift. The trail heads right into a forest, and I’m not taking my bike and dumping it there,’ Bucky said, going into his closet and pulling up the floorboards to reveal his secret stash of weapons.

‘I’ll send Becca to pick you up in an hour. Do you want her to bring anything?’

Bucky sighed and looked over his bag of knives and guns. ‘Yeah, get her to bring my crossbow.’


	6. Insomnia

Steve was toasty up in his tree. He hadn’t bothered setting his tent, because he was only up there to eat, drink some coffee, and set a few false trails, then he was going back on the run. He had felt a small jolt go through him when someone touched his trail at the edge of the forest. ‘Bucky,’ he breathed, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

He still couldn’t believe this was where they had ended up. He had been sitting on the knowledge of Bucky’s alter-ego for a while now, and he thought he would be ready when it came to this point, but apparently not. It hurt to know Bucky was after him now, and that his intent was nothing other than malicious.

He hoped it was the heartlines Bucky was following to get him. Judging by the spike in his trail, however, he wasn’t. Not for now, at least.

Steve figured Bucky had returned home, which gave him an extra bit of time to get himself together and organised for the next stage of this stupid game of cat and mouse.

From his position in the tree, he tried to visualise the forest, closing his eyes and using his other senses to create a map in his mind. He concentrated, breathing in and out evenly, as he laid trails crisscrossing over each other on the forest floor. Some he ended in the middle of nowhere, some he ended in hidden spots his magic had found – behind the fanned out roots of a toppled tree, in a ditch by a small creek, in a shelter some kids might have made to party in, if the cans and bottles Steve could feel were anything to go by.

He put as much strength as he could into them, doing his best not to let any emotion leak into them. Bucky would feel it was a trap if the trails were full of anything but fear or complete nonchalance, and then where the fuck would they be?

Steve sighed as he raised his thermos to his lips to sip some more of his drink. He didn’t know how much time he would have before Bucky returned, so he figured he should get moving, because otherwise Bucky would almost certainly catch up to him within hours, and he didn’t want that to happen.

With that thought, Steve closed his thermos again and slid it back into his backpack, grabbed his duffle bag, and jumped down from the tree. It was going to be a long night if he wanted to get deep enough into the forest before Bucky got back.

 

* * *

 

Steve hadn’t run like this for… a very long time. He had been going hard for at least an hour, and even with his high stamina and the energy he was leeching from Natasha, he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to keep it up. He had dropped his glamour, and he was putting that energy into going traceless, but sooner or later, he was going to have to stop and regain his sensibilities.

The thing was, Bucky had tripped one of Steve’s alarm points. He had set up certain markers he could find in the forest – rocks, logs, saplings – that would pick up on any other magic users passing and alert Steve.

The one Steve got the hit from was only a five minute walk away.

He didn’t have time to erase evidence he was there, because he needed to _run_. Fuck it, he had been this close to abandoning his tent, but he remembered he could collapse it and have it back in its pack with literally a snap of his fingers. With that done, he jumped from the tree, and sped off at a pace he forgot he was capable of.

So Steve just fucking ran.

He was tossing alarms at random objects he passed, not even taking the time to check they had stuck, before he continued going. Eventually, he slowed his pace, but that was only when he came to a large, tall tree. Wide branches, stretching high up to the sky.

Steve jumped to the lowest branch, and started making his way up until he was about thirty feet in the air. He settled then, allowing himself to catch his breath as he sat with his back against the trunk, legs straddling the branch. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, tipping his head back and looking up through the leaves to a crack where he could see the sky from. A couple of stars twinkled brightly against the black of night, and Steve focused on them to centre himself. ‘Okay,’ he said, patting the branch he was on. ‘I’m sorry, this might hurt a little, but I’m really stressed right now and drained as hell, so please work with me.’

Steve stood slowly, taking a deep breath and rubbing his hands together as he exhaled. ‘Here we go,’ he murmured, holding his hands out, palms down, as he pushed magic through them to widen the branch he was on, and grow the shoots coming of the branches nearby. He closed his eyes and envisioned lacing them together, thickening them into a sturdy spot big enough for his pup tent to perch on.

Steve found that the branches were easier to coax into position than usual as he did this. He opened his eyes to see it had formed exactly as he imagined it, and he walked cautiously across to the platform. ‘Thank you for understanding,’ he said, patting the trunk of the tree and carefully placing his duffle bag and backpack down, so he could put up his tent and eventually get some rest.

But first, he had a letter to write.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was exhausted now. He had been in this forest for at least three days, and he had barely got any sleep. All he was doing was following the trail of shining particles in the air that the witch was leaving behind, and it was not getting him very far. He was sure that the witch would have needed to stop at _some_ point, but he saw no evidence of any pausing at all. Then again, if it wasn’t for the consistency of those particles, Bucky probably would’ve gotten lost by now.

Bucky decided to switch up tactics. They were in a forest, so maybe he should be going back to nature, like this witch had decided to. He paused where he was, dropping the tramping pack he had on, and took a few moments to stretch. Bucky cricked his neck, shook his arms to loosen them up, and did a few other movements to get himself feeling freer.

He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. ‘Where are you?’ he murmured. ‘Let me see you.’ Bucky stood there for a few minutes, just breathing in and out, feeling his magic prick along his spine, and spark in his palms. He turned his hands up and pushed tendrils of it out, tasting the air. There was salt here… no, _sweat_. It hung in the trail Bucky was standing beside, and gave him a bit more to go on.

‘So, you’re a guy, then,’ Bucky said, opening his eyes and looking around. He could feel smoke in the air, stifling the oxygen, and giving him a better idea of where this witch was. Bucky picked his pack back up, and set off at a steady jog. ‘Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when we come for you?’ he muttered, following the faint smell of smoke.

Bucky thought this might _finally_ be his lucky day, that he might get to end this hunt and finish his business with his parents, but of course. It wasn’t.

The witch wasn’t _long_ gone, but he definitely wasn’t there anymore, and Bucky groaned. ‘Just can’t catch a break, can I?’

Bucky didn’t want to continue running, but this lead was too fresh, and he might not get an opportunity this good again. He deliberated for a few moments, before he decided to just do it. Who cared if Bucky was _this close_ to collapsing from exhaustion? The sooner this was over, the better.

So Bucky just ran, following the scent of fear, like the fucking bloodhound he apparently was now.

 

* * *

 

_‘Bucky!’_

_Bucky turned, a happy smile on his face. ‘Hey! There you are. I’ve been looking for you.’_

_‘That’s the point! I’ll never reveal my secrets to you.’_

_‘You’re too good at this game,’ Bucky said, leaning up to kiss the tall blond man leaning against the doorway._

_‘I’ve had a lot of time to practise.’_

 

* * *

 

Bucky jolted upright with a gasp. He fought against the sleeping bag he was in to get out so he could move into the open air. ‘Fuck,’ he breathed, rolling into the bracken of the forest floor. ‘Fuck, what the fuck?’

The dream was already fading, so he grasped desperately at the images in his mind to glean as much as he could. He had never seen that guy in his life. Tall, blonde, and definitely Bucky’s type, looking at him like he hung the stars.

Bucky had once read somewhere that the brain can’t make up faces, and every person ever in your dreams is someone you’ve seen before, even just passing on the street. Bucky thought that might be a lie, though, because if he had seen this guy before, he’d be doing his best to date him right now. Bucky committed his face to memory, because even though he _didn’t_ know this guy, the feeling he’d had being around him was warm and inviting and _home_ , and Bucky didn’t want to lose it.

Bucky rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed as he looked around the forest. It was probably an hour or so before dawn, and Bucky figured he wasn’t going to be getting anymore sleep, so he found some food in his bag and sat down in front of his tiny, dwindling fire to eat. Fifteen minutes later, he kicked some damp soil onto the flames, pulled his hair back into a bun away from his face, and packed up his gear to leave.

He had a good feeling about today, like it might be the day he would finally get his hands on this witch, and fuck it, honestly, he was going to use his _hands_ for this guy. Bucky wasn’t going to hide in a bush and manipulate the elements to smother him or something. He’d been tracking him for months, and God, he wanted to make sure he was well and truly going to be dead after this.

As Bucky headed further into the forest, following his nose more than anything, a chill ran up his spine. In the half light, he could vaguely make out the shapes of broken stones in a small clearing. He paused and squinted, looking harder, until his enhanced vision kicked in and made it easier to make out exactly what it was. He walked slowly closer to one of the stones, the chill lingering in his spine, as he felt distinctly unwelcome.

He held a hand out to the rock closest to him, creating a small ball of light in his palm that he could use to inspect it, and immediately pulled his hand back. Bucky looked around himself, floating the ball up to get a better look at his surroundings, and swore under his breath.

Bucky knew why he felt unwelcome here – why he felt _unsafe_. The rocks were the first clue, because stones don’t naturally form like that, in a circle with runes carved into them. The trees were what told him he was in trouble.

They were dead.

Not just bare, leafless branches. They were withered, twisted into grotesque shapes, with bones hanging from them by lengths of twine. They were swaying gently, though there was no breeze, and an eerie sound drifted through the stones towards where Bucky was standing. At first, it sounded like soft breathing, but as it got louder, it changed from breath to whispers, and from whispers to chanting, and as the chanting grew louder, the sounds of drums started, surrounding Bucky, and suffocating him like a blanket.

Bucky felt his breathing getting faster, as the sounds were all he could hear. He fought to keep his eyes open, and felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, so he did all he could think of. He pushed all of his effort into growing the ball of light still hovering above his head, until it was bigger than a beach ball, and he clapped his hands together, shattering it into pieces.

The noise ceased, and Bucky came back to himself. _Light defeats dark_ had been repeating in his head, barely heard over the chanting and drums. He didn’t know where the thought had come from, but right now he didn’t care to investigate further. Bucky backed out, away from the trees and the stones and exhaled angrily.

Fuck, he hated witches.

 

* * *

 

Steve had been watching Bucky from the other side of the clearing, under cover of a few bushes that were losing their leaves. He had enchanted the stones with a spell his mother had taught him before she died. It was essentially a protective spell that would do no long-lasting damage, but would provide enough time for a coven or individual witch to get far enough away to escape hunters. Sometimes, if the caster of the spell was unable to move, they could add a little something extra into the way the spell was weaved so that it would give the suggestion to the mind of the intruder to leave the way they had come.

Which was more or less what Steve had done to Bucky. He didn’t want to hurt him, of course not, but he knew that Bucky would be expecting some defensive magic from him, and would possibly get suspicious if he didn’t. Granted, Steve didn’t know this side of Bucky very well (clearly) but the Bucky he knew was very cautious about some things, and Steve imagined that would probably be heightened when it came to hunting.

So Steve started laying traps, starting with that one. It was a happy coincidence that he had come across the circle, actually. He hadn’t known it was here, but it was comforting to know his people had been here at some point and left it prepared for future generations.

But as Steve had watched Bucky deal with the noise produced by the spell, something he hadn’t expected had happened.

Bucky had dispersed it.

It was a commonly known thing that light would always defeat dark, and while the spell had not been cast with dark magic, the intent was not exactly pure, so Bucky shattering that orb was bound to break through it and stop the noise immediately. Bucky didn’t seem any worse for wear, just kind of pissed off. It was very interesting for Steve to see, something to remember about any future defensive magic he cast, but of course, he was glad Bucky was okay.

He was only trying to get them both to the end of this alive.

 

* * *

 

_‘I love you, Bucky.’_

_Bucky rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow and smiled lazily at the man beside him. ‘And I love you.’_

_‘Would you love me through all our differences?’ the man asked, looking up to Bucky with eyes as blue and clear as the sky._

_‘I would love you no matter what,’ Bucky said honestly. ‘Why?’_

_‘What if I was keeping something from you? Something big? Something that might change the way you look at me?’_

_‘Nothing would ever change how I feel about you, I promise.’_

 

* * *

 

The dream didn’t come as a shock to Bucky. He didn’t know how long he had been out here anymore, but he knew he had been dreaming of this one, blond man every time he slept. He still had no idea who he was or why he was in his dreams, but Bucky was a big believer in fate, and dreams conveying messages of some sort.

He just had no fucking idea what this was trying to tell him.

Bucky sighed and rolled over as much as he could in the space of his sleeping bag, and went back to sleep, not even bothering to open his eyes before he did so.

 

* * *

 

Steve was getting worried. He hadn’t seen Bucky for a couple of days, none of his alarms had been tripped, and he hadn’t felt anything from the trails he had been placing, either. It was undoubtedly a stupid idea to go searching for Bucky, but despite the fact that he was actually _hunting_ Steve and also didn’t remember who he was, Steve still loved him. He always would. He had said that, and _damn_ , it was true.

So, Steve decided to say “fuck it” and do a quick recon mission, packing up his gear in case he needed to make a break for it, but leaving it up the tree on the newly formed perch he had made a couple of days ago. He jumped down from the tree and extended his senses to find the familiar beat of Bucky’s heart.

He decided to go traceless for this, because if he found Bucky, the last thing he wanted was to leave a direct trail to his camp, right? Really though, he was about to track down Bucky, so that should’ve realistically been the least of his worries.

It might’ve been lame or cheesy that Steve could literally find Bucky’s heartbeat in a forest, but here he was, following that beat that he’d long since memorised. Steve walked cautiously in the direction it was coming for, going at a steady pace for almost twenty minutes, before he came across a small camp.

There was a pup tent similar to his own, a small fire a few feet from the entrance, and a couple of bags hanging from a tree nearby.

The fire was still burning, a couple of broken branches freshly added to the flames. There was an enamel mug outside the tent, and Steve could see the steam rising from it into the fresh morning air. Bucky couldn’t be far if he’d left his morning coffee unattended.

Steve could still hear his heartbeat, but he couldn’t see him no matter the direction he looked. He wasn’t in the tent, either. Steve was becoming increasingly worried as each second of Bucky’s whereabouts stayed a mystery.

Until they weren’t.

Steve heard him before he saw him. Bucky’s breathing was quiet, if not a little unsteady, and there was more weight being pushed into the earth as he stepped forwards. He was carrying something.

Steve turned slowly, taking a deep breath as he prepared to see Bucky in his natural element.

As they came face to face, Bucky’s expression changed rapidly – from fear to confusion, before it came to settle on anger. ‘Witch,’ he snarled accusingly, raising the crossbow he had in his hands and directing it at him.

_So that was what he was carrying._ Steve swallowed audibly as he eyed it up, and decided he didn’t see a point in lying now. ‘Yes,’ Steve breathed. ‘I am a witch.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Bucky asked, as he stepped forward changing the angle of his bow slightly. If he let loose that arrow now, Steve would be a dead man.

‘What would you like me to say that would stop you from shooting me?’ Steve said, hoping he wouldn’t just infuriate Bucky and have effectively killed himself.

‘The truth would be nice, if you can even _tell_ the truth.’

Steve resisted rolling his eyes, and decided again to be honest. ‘I came to find you.’

‘Why?’ Bucky demanded, flicking his eyes over Steve, lingering on the tattoos on Steve’s forearms, where he had his sleeves pushed up. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘What do you want from _me_?’

‘What does it look like?’ Bucky asked, looking pointedly at his crossbow. ‘Did you come here thinking you could kill me before I found you?’

‘No, it’s not like that,’ Steve said, holding his hands out placatingly. ‘I don’t – I don’t want to kill you.’

Confusion crossed Bucky’s face once more, before he took a breath and became completely unreadable. ‘Get on your knees.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ Steve muttered, kneeling slowly on the ground in front of Bucky. ‘Please, don’t do this.’

Bucky ignored him and stepped closer, until he was holding his bow a mere meter from Steve. ‘I have to.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Steve pleaded. ‘Look into your heart. This isn’t you, I know it isn’t you. This is your parents –’

‘You don’t know _shit_ about me, about my family!’ Bucky spat. ‘You’re a _witch_. You’re _unnatural_.’

‘Yes, I do, I know you. I know this isn’t –’

‘Get out of my head!’ Bucky yelled. ‘Get the fuck out of my head! What did you do to me, huh?’

‘Do to you?’ Steve repeated. ‘I didn’t –’

‘Don’t _lie_ to me! What did you do?’

‘I don’t understand –’

‘Tell me _why the fuck I dream about you_!’

Steve’s jaw dropped, and he felt his heart stop. ‘What?’

‘Why do I dream about you? We’ve never met, and I sure as hell don’t know you, so tell me what the fuck is going on!’

‘I… I can’t,’ Steve said brokenly. ‘I can’t.’

Bucky laughed sadly, tipping his head to the sky. ‘I hate witches.’

‘And I hate hunters, yet here we are,’ Steve said quietly. ‘Are you going to kill me?’

‘I have to,’ Bucky said, looking back down to Steve, before he started talking, almost to himself. ‘I dream about you, and in my dreams, I love you. When I wake up, I still feel it, and it’s like an _ache_ in the middle of my chest, like I’m empty without you or who you are in my dreams. I love you, and you love me, and you look at me like I made the _stars_. I hate it, the way it makes me feel, I have to. But you know what?’ Bucky paused and shook his head. ‘Maybe in another life, I could’ve loved you.’

Steve slowly stood up from his knees, watching Bucky carefully for any sign he was going to fire the crossbow. ‘You’re not going to kill me right now.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Bucky said, in the same hollow tone as he had been monologuing with.

‘Yes, I do. You might kill me at some point, and if all else fails, I promise to let you.’

Bucky’s head snapped to where Steve was standing in front of him. ‘Why would you do that?’

Steve let out a small sigh and wondered what he could say that was truthful without giving everything away to Bucky. He didn’t know if that would tamper with the magic of the heartlines – if it had even worked in its full capacity – and he didn’t want to risk it. ‘Because I’ll have nothing left to lose.’

‘You have something to lose now?’ Bucky raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re in the woods. I think you’re on your last leg already.’

‘I have one more thing, and it’s the most important,’ Steve said. ‘But right now, I’m sorry.’

‘For?’

‘This,’ Steve said, quickly whipping up a ball of energy and hitting Bucky with it. Bucky fell backwards with a dull thud, as he dropped to the forest floor. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, before he sped back to his campsite and prepared to leave for a new one.

 

* * *

 

Bucky couldn’t believe it. He had come face to face with the witch, he’d had it – _him_ – on his knees, and he’d passed up the perfect opportunity to end this entire situation by letting his emotions get the better of him, and the witch had knocked him out.

Bucky was pissed as hell, had a small headache from dropping to the ground like a sack of shit, and had already decided he was going to neglect to tell his parents this tidbit of information. Fucking stupid, yeah, but Bucky had been so shocked to see the man from his dreams right in front of him.

God, the man _of_ his dreams.

_Maybe in another life, I could have loved you._ Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Bucky huffed in frustration and brushed the bracken off his ass as he made his way back to his tent to finish his coffee.

Oh, wait, of course. His coffee was cold. How fucking long had Bucky been unconscious? He had rationed his coffee to one per day, and he’d wasted today’s by not killing the damn witch.

Well, now Bucky was pissed.

He picked up his mug and focused on warming the contents. He’d only done this trick a couple of times because his parents had instilled in him that _magic is for tracking_ and _magic is for killing_ and _magic is not for trivial matters like heating your food, James_. His parents could get fucked right now, because Bucky just wanted his damn coffee, and all their years of drilling _magic is bad!_ into his head weren’t going to stop him.

As Bucky sipped his freshly warmed coffee, staring at the dying coals of his fire, he considered the situation he was now facing.

The witch was the man from Bucky’s dreams. He had kept saying to Bucky _“I know you, I know this isn’t you”_ but they had never met, surely. He was only saying that to get in Bucky’s head and screw with him, right? Bucky had heard that witches could communicate telepathically, and sometimes even put thoughts into the heads of people, or read them like a book. That was all he had meant by it, because if they had ever met before today, Bucky would’ve felt it, he would’ve _known_ if he was near a witch. He could feel it rolling off the man as he stood in front of him.

The feeling Bucky woke up with after those dreams, like part of him was missing, had returned tenfold when he was looking at him. Now that Bucky thought about it… What he had been feeling was reflected in the witch’s eyes, the slight quiver of his voice like he was trying not to break. All Bucky wanted was to hold him or be held _by_ him, but that couldn’t happen. It could never happen.

Bucky would have to put aside those feelings because the next time they saw each other, Bucky would have to kill him. He would have to do his duty and finish him, despite everything he wanted to do. He could never be with a witch. It was a deeply unnatural and unheard of thing for a hunter to love a witch. It wasn’t even a thought. His parents would disown him if they found out. Of course, who said a witch would even want to be with a hunter? They would need to have a death wish. Or just be in love.

But all of this, absolutely _all_ of it, was ignoring the fact that being with the witch stirred something in the back of Bucky’s memory, and felt like, crazily enough, he actually might know him.


	7. The Glade

Steve had always liked running.

Well, that was a lie. Steve had liked _jogging_ for _recreation_ and _exercise_. He did not enjoy being chased through a national park like a fucking rabbit on the run from wolves. He was trying to think of this as just a jog, not a sprint for his life from the man he loved.

It wasn’t working.

Steve had just gone down to a small stream about a half hour’s walk from his current camp up a tree so that he could wash himself (he was starting to get offended by his own smell at this point) and refill his water bottles. He had just finished tying the laces of his boots when he heard someone else splashing in the water downstream.

Steve had been expecting to see some sort of large mammal, like a deer or something, maybe a bear, and while it _was_ a large mammal, it wasn’t the kind he was hoping. Deer and bears were generally quite nice to witches, maybe they were able to sense they were good people or something, but hunters? Hunters were, by definition, _not_ nice to witches.

Steve figured he could leave his bottles under some brush nearby and fill them later, and tried to back slowly away from where Bucky was filling up bottles of his own, but he must’ve stepped on a branch or something, because there was a loud crunching noise, and Bucky’s head snapped up to where Steve was standing.

‘Oh, shit,’ Steve muttered, before he turned and started sprinting through the forest.

Bucky was about a hundred metres behind, and he was doing as much as he could to catch up to Steve, firing blasts of magic at him as he went.

Steve wasn’t too worried about those little balls though, because they were just that – _little_. Steve had many more years practice with magic under his belt than Bucky did, and Bucky hadn’t been using it for a few months, so he wasn’t really able to sustain the bolts for long enough for them to reach Steve.

Even so, Steve had put up a shield to protect himself from whatever the fuck Bucky was attempting to hit him with. From what Steve could tell, it was likely some sort of incapacitating thing. Probably just meant to stun Steve and knock him down for long enough that Bucky could reach him and get his hands on him. Literally, if the threats Bucky was calling out to Steve were anything to go by.

They hurt Steve, ripping at his core and attacking the hope he held that Bucky would come back to him, with every _I’m going to rip your throat out!_ and _I’ll cut out your heart and show it to you!_ yelled to him. _Fuck,_ they hurt so bad.

Then, quite unexpectedly, they ceased, and Bucky let out a cry of fear.

Steve stopped and turned around, but before his eyes even found Bucky, he knew something was wrong. Something in the air had shifted and they weren’t alone.

Bucky was being backed against a tree by… something, and as Steve came closer, he started getting a feeling off it, like it was alive, despite that it definitely did not look like it.

Steve tentatively reached into its mind, and pulled up images, memories, thoughts. The trees, the streams, the animals, and further back – memories of a home and a hearth, of magic and happiness and a small blonde child bouncing on someone’s knee.

Steve walked closer, becoming less afraid as he understood more of this thing. It wasn’t a person anymore, although it had been a long time ago. It was allowing Steve to sift through its thoughts, and was providing feelings to go with the memories – overwhelmingly was the maternal instinct around this little child, as Steve sorted for more of it, because he felt like he recognised that house.

The creature was still heading towards Bucky, but even so, was trying weakly to protect memories of this child, as it grew, as it played, as it became clearer that this child… was Steve.

_Mama?_ Steve called, hoping, _praying_ , that this worked.

The creature snapped its head around, to look at Steve, eyes a milky white and sunken into its head. What looked like weeds from the back was in fact long, wet hair, threaded with leaves. Its pale skin was thin, seeming to cling to the bones and fragile muscle beneath, with mud covering its legs up to where the knees probably were. The clothes the creature was wearing were rudimentary, and maybe, if this turned out to be who Steve thought it was, maybe it was just nature reclaiming fabric and turning it to something else.

_Mama?_ Steve tried again, while Bucky looked between him and the creature in fear.

_Ma…ma?_ The creature repeated, tilting its head sharply.

Steve could feel it reaching into _his_ head now, and sorting through _his_ memories. He helped by pulling up the few precious images of his mom he had ingrained into his mind, comparing the creature’s memories of the child with his own, similar ones.

Now that it was clear he was hunting her baby, the creature pulled back from Steve’s head, and turned back to Bucky, stalking closer to him now than before. She moved in a strange manner – somewhere between graceful dance moves and birdlike.

_Mama,_ Steve tried, unsure how much of Sarah was left in what his mother had become. _No, don’t hurt him._

_He wants to hurt you,_ Sarah replied, keeping her gaze locked on Bucky, and surprising Steve with her coherency. _No one hurts my baby._

_No, Mama, he doesn’t understand._

‘Get away from me,’ Bucky said, drawing Steve’s attention back to him. He was right up against a tree by now, grasping at the bark in attempt to ground himself somehow. His face was calm, but his eyes were wide and panicked.

‘Hunter,’ Sarah hissed. Her voice was old, like the whisper of pages turning in an ancient tome, like water beating steadily against stones and wearing them down to dust. It seemed to echo, and Steve couldn’t tell if the forest was that quiet, or if it was something caused by whatever had turned her to this.

As she continued moving closer still to Bucky, until they were only a few metres apart, Bucky clenched his fists, the small sparks Steve recognised as a sign of his defensive magic appeared. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘ _Hunter_ ,’ Sarah repeated half crouching as she, too, seemed to note that Bucky was gearing up to defend himself.

‘Leave him,’ Steve said, moving towards them both. _Please, Mama, leave him alone._

_Why would I do that?_ Sarah replied in Steve’s mind. _The hunter wants to hurt you, and leave his filthy blood magic on my earth._

_Because I love him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Surely you can sense the heartlines on him?_

Sarah snarled at Bucky as she moved into a lower position. ‘The hunter will die.’

_Mama, please_ , Steve said desperately. _Don’t hurt him._

‘I will hurt him like he intends to do. You cannot stop me.’

Bucky looked between Steve and the-thing-that-was-Sarah in confusion, apparently picking up that Steve was trying to protect him.

_Do not hurt him. My mama would not._ You _would not._

_I would do what is to be done._ Sarah snapped her head around to stare at Steve with blank, dead eyes. ‘Your mother is here no longer,’ she said, raising her strange voice and making it loud enough for Bucky to hear and raise his eyebrows at.

‘I will protect him from you if I have to,’ Steve said lowly, drawing on Natasha’s pendant for extra strength as he built up a shield around Bucky. ‘I can deal with him. Leave this place.’

‘He dies.’ Sarah turned back from Steve, back towards Bucky, with something akin to a sneer across her face. She crouched lower, letting her fingers grace the top of the earth, and as she rose, the ground seemed to follow her. Shoots of vines sprung from the ground and tried to get to Bucky, but couldn’t get through the shield Steve had put up.

Bucky looked to Steve in surprise. ‘Are you doing that?’

Steve ignored him and continued speaking quietly to Sarah, which he knew Bucky would not be able to hear. ‘You will not harm me, and I will not have you harm him. Leave this place, or I will make you.’

‘He _dies_!’ Sarah roared, giving up on her vines in favour of hurling a black cloud of magic at Bucky.

That was when Steve decided there was nothing left of his mother in that creature. ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ he said, dropping Bucky’s shield and quickly pulling on Nat’s pendant again to create a ball of glowing, white energy to throw towards his mother. When it dispersed a few moments later, she was gone.

_Light defeats dark._ Always had, always would.

‘Are you okay?’ Steve asked Bucky, maintaining his distance in case Bucky decided to try anything.

‘You…’ Bucky frowned. ‘Did you just save my life?’

Steve shrugged as he came up with an excuse for his actions that didn’t include the phrase _I love you and don’t want you to die_. ‘Couldn’t have someone else kill you before we have a final showdown, right?’

 

* * *

 

_How are you doing?_

Steve glanced up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, surprised at the clarity. ‘Nat?’ he whispered, unsure where Bucky was at the current moment. ‘Where are you?’

A blackbird hopped down from somewhere, appearing on the branch right in front of Steve. It looked like it was rolling its eyes at him. _Right here, dipshit._

‘Shit, Nat, you can’t just do that.’

_Watch me._ The bird flapped its wings, the feathers taking on a two dimensional quality as it flickered briefly. Steve had no idea where he was, but if Natasha’s bird was having difficulties keeping its appearance, then he was probably really fucking far from home. _Are you okay? Have you had any problems?_

‘Small run in, but I’m okay. Don’t even know when that was. Haven’t seen him for a while.’

_You’ve been gone nearly a month, Steve. Where even are you?_ Nat’s voice faded for a moment. God, Steve must be even further than really fucking far from home.

‘I have no idea. I think I’ve probably crossed a few state lines, I’ve been going about ten miles a day, or more if I’ve stayed somewhere for more than one night.’

_Steve, you need to come back soon. Bucky will get sick of this and come back for us, and you’ll just be lost in a fucking forest, okay?_

‘I’ll try to have this done soon,’ Steve promised the bird solemnly. ‘I’ll try to find where he is and… I guess I’ll let him catch me. This isn’t going as I planned.’

_Oh, you had a plan, huh._

‘I, uh. I replaced his memories of us with heartlines.’ Steve winced as he prepared for whatever onslaught Nat was about to unleash through the medium of this blackbird in front of him.

_Jesus, Steve! What the fuck? You can’t just do shit like that!_

‘Look, it’s either one person dies, or all of us die. If the heartlines didn’t take _fully_ then I’ll just…’ Steve stopped midsentence, fearing he’d revealed too much to Nat.

_You fucking_ what, _Steve? You plan to die for us?_

‘Uh, no.’ Unconvincing. ‘Look, I can feel your energy dwindling so I’m probably way too far for this to be a healthy exercise for you. I’ll see you when I see you.’

_You’re a shit. If I don’t hear from you in one week, I’m coming after you._ The bird seemed to scowl, before it twisted into itself and disappeared.

And now Steve was screwed. Because either the heartlines had to work, or Bucky had to die, because if he killed Steve, then Steve knew Natasha would not rest until she had found Bucky.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-afternoon the next day when Steve decided something had to be done. He sat cross legged outside his tent, pitched on the ground for only the second time since he and Bucky had been playing extreme cat and mouse.

‘Okay,’ Steve exhaled slowly. ‘Here we go.’

He pulled his shirt off, dropped it on his knee, and closed his eyes as he relaxed his muscles. He had a tattoo of an eagle on his left shoulder blade that he would use as a scout on occasion, and today he needed it. Steve focused on the thought of the eagle taking flight, soaring through the sky and taking note of all beneath it. The way its feathers would catch the wind, drifting higher and higher, and spiralling back down to land in the trees.

The first time Steve had done this, he had passed out from the pain of bringing forth another creature from his own skin. He had learned to control the pain since then, but still… it stung. Steve could feel when the bird was present, because there was a small hum in the back of his mind, like he was trying to communicate with himself.

As Steve opened his eyes, he adjusted his sight so he was looking from his own eyes, rather than the eagle’s. He held out his hand, and the bird hopped up, stretching out its wings for Steve to make sure it was fully formed, strong and natural looking. Steve nodded, satisfied with how his bird appeared, and gave it permission to take wing. As the bird flew higher, Steve leaned back against the tree and switched to looking from the bird’s eyes.

‘Let’s find Bucky,’ he muttered, getting the distinct feeling he was flying towards his death.

 

* * *

 

Bucky had lost the witch’s trail a while ago. He didn’t know how long it had been. He barely knew where they were (somewhere between Virginia and maybe Tennessee?) and it felt like he had gone for weeks without speaking to another person.

Which, y’know, he _had_. Bucky wasn’t counting the witch in this, because he wasn’t entirely sure if it had actually happened or if it was just a very convincing dream. Due to the fact he woke up outside his tent, on the forest floor, with cold coffee nearby, he sort of figured it was real. Which didn’t help his confidence in relation to his witchhunting skills, if his _target_ had willingly wandered in and out of Bucky’s campsite.

But anyway, there he was, pondering his life choices.

His determination to kill this witch had dwindled, along with his food supplies, and he was considering just up and leaving, because if he hadn’t found him by now, that wasn’t likely to change in the next few days, really. Bucky would just tell his parents he had killed the witch, and they would be none the wiser.

Bucky wasn’t going to do that, though, because if he found the witch, he would _see_ him again, as stupid as it sounded. He was still dreaming about him, and maybe he was falling a little more in love with him each time he woke up, as hard as he tried not to. He didn’t even _know_ the damn witch, and yet, he was becoming more and more reluctant to kill him with every passing sleep, nap, and slumber of any kind.

Maybe if he found the witch, he wouldn’t even have the balls to kill him, and Bucky would have to lie to his parents anyway, and send the witch on his way for his own good. And for Bucky’s. The witch would live, and Bucky’s infatuation would hopefully end.

It was a nice day today. The sun wasn’t too bright, the air wasn’t too hot, and Bucky had found a good, clean stream to set up beside. The steady rush of the water was soothing to hear, and was making Bucky feel very… peaceful. He had read something about how the amount of ions released by large bodies of water made you feel less stressed, and he had to agree. Sitting here, Bucky could almost trick himself into thinking he was just on a nice solo trek through this random fucking forest, instead of being a one man war party.

It was serene as fuck, and there was even an eagle soaring overhead.

The bird flew past Bucky, but came back in a swoop, like it had seen something interesting. It landed on a branch near Bucky, and seemed to be watching him.

Bucky tilted his head, as he looked right back at it. There was something about this bird that he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe its wings were too shiny, its eyes too humanlike, despite it obviously being a bird. Something.

‘You’re a pretty bird,’ Bucky found himself saying out loud. Great, he was actually losing it, starting to talk to _birds_. ‘I bet you don’t have any issues with hunting, huh? They’d never see you coming.’

The bird didn’t reply, thank god, not that Bucky had been expecting it to, of course. Given his current state of isolation, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. Weren’t people supposed to start hallucinating after spending too much time away from civilisation or something?

‘What would you do if you were trying to hunt something that completely fucking evaded you, huh? Because this witch is getting on my nerves. Maybe there _isn’t_ even a witch. Maybe I’m just crazy and this is all in my head. Thoughts?’ Bucky frowned. ‘Scratch that.’

The bird flapped its wings and let out a squawk. It was still watching Bucky, and didn’t seem afraid of him, so Bucky figured he may as well use this as a time to talk to something other than a rock.

‘Y’know, what I think is worse, is that I don’t even know if I’ll be able to kill the witch,’ Bucky said, leaning his back heavily against the tree behind him, and crossing his legs at the ankles. ‘Too many dreams about him, y’know? He’s too in my head, and it should annoy me, but… I can’t find it in myself to hate him anymore, even if he is a witch. I don’t like killing people who’ve done nothing to me, except exist in a world where I was taught it was wrong.’

The eagle twisted its head and seemed to be waiting patiently for Bucky to continue. Or maybe it was just waiting for Bucky to die or something.

‘How am I supposed to do my job?’ Bucky asked. ‘When what I believe and what I have to do are complete opposites? He was right, this isn’t me, this is my parents, but this is what I have to do to get out from under them. I don’t want to, I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. This is the last hunt I’m ever going on, he’ll be the last witch I ever kill, even though…’ Bucky let out a deep sigh. ‘Fuck, I don’t want to. I just need to track him the fuck down so I can get this over with. Any pointers?’

The bird blinked once, and flapped its wings with such power, it seemed to disappear completely as it soared into the branches overhead. _Fucking birds._ Never sticking around to finish conversations.

Bucky huffed and decided, seeing as he was down here on the ground anyway, to put out some feelers for the tracks of the witch.

He put his hands, palms down, in the dirt and closed his eyes to concentrate on pulling up particles and traces. He frowned slightly as he got a slight trail, and dug his fingers into the ground to get a better reading of it. This couldn’t be right. Bucky’s magic had to be off, because it felt like… like it was coming _towards_ him.

Bucky’s eyes shot open as he realised his magic was right, because the witch had found him _again_ , and he jumped up to grab his crossbow and make sure it was loaded.

Bucky’s magic was going into overdrive now, telling him exactly how far away the witch was, how strong he was at the moment, his probable route to Bucky’s camp… Bucky just needed it to _stop_. He faced the direction the witch was coming from, surprised to see that he was close enough to actually see.

Bucky took a deep breath, lifted the crossbow, and in one swift motion, aimed and fired the bolt.

 

* * *

 

Steve had had enough. He was so over this entire charade, and he just wanted it to fucking end. If he was going to die, waiting another week wasn’t going to change that. Bucky had been speaking to his eagle, and he was closer to Steve than either of them apparently realised. So Steve decided to just go to him. Get it over with, as Bucky had said. Consequences be damned, Steve wanted to die on his own terms.

He decided to pack up his stuff and take it with him. Fuck it, honestly. Who cared anymore. Steve figured if he ended up dead and Bucky found his pack and decided to go through it, he might find the letter Steve had written him, along with a couple of photos he had slipped into an envelope addressed to Bucky.

Maybe Bucky would think it was a trap, maybe he wouldn’t believe the words Steve had jotted down to him during his time in the forest, but he didn’t want to die in vain, with Bucky believing they never had a chance, because they did. They would always have a chance, despite what either of them believed, and once, before things got complicated, they’d had a love so great, Steve was willing to put his life on the line for it.

Steve still didn’t know if the heartlines had worked. If Bucky would ever remember him, or if he would still be able to love him, should the lines kick in and do their damn job already. Maybe Steve was pushing his luck a little bit here, forcing Bucky to make a decision.

From what he’d said to Steve’s eagle, though, it looked like there was a possibility he might be remembering things. From what he’d said to _Steve_ , he was definitely dreaming about him. All signs were looking good, but you never knew. That could all backfire when Bucky was actually presented with the opportunity.

So here Steve was, going towards his destiny.

At least Bucky had chosen a nice spot beside the river. If Steve was going to pick anywhere to die, it might look somewhere like this.

But now that Bucky knew Steve was coming, if the minute vibrations Steve could feel in the earth were anything to go by, he wasn’t so sure he was making the right choice. Especially when Bucky picked up his crossbow and fired it at Steve.

Steve had just enough time to fling up a shield, before the arrow hit him in the heart. Well, at least Bucky’s aim was good.

Steve dropped his bags a few metres from Bucky, keeping his shield in place, should Bucky try to shoot him again. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I’m not here to harm you?’ he asked.

‘What do you want? Coming here again?’ Bucky asked, putting the crossbow down, but not moving his eyes from Steve, probably figuring the bow was going to do nothing to him. ‘You’re not supposed to be finding _me_ , that’s not how this works.’

‘It works however it’s meant to,’ Steve shrugged. ‘I like to call it fate.’

‘Fate?’ Bucky repeated. ‘Fate? My fate is to kill you, is it?’

‘That’s up to you.’

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘You said you would let me kill you if you had nothing left to lose.’

‘I did,’ Steve nodded. ‘I’m tired, and I just want this to end. The measures I took before all this happened… I don’t know if they worked, and right now, this is all I can think of to just… force its hand.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Steve sighed, walking slowly forward until he and Bucky were within arm’s reach of each other. Steve didn’t know how to phrase this delicately. He didn’t know how to put this so it wouldn’t interfere with the heartlines. He didn’t even know if the heartlines had fucking _stuck_ so he had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to say.

So, Steve settled for, ‘What do you want it to mean?’

Bucky gaped for a moment, flexing his fingers nervously. ‘I…’ he shut his mouth abruptly, his face becoming vulnerable and changing him back to the Bucky Steve knew and loved. ‘I just want to know what it means. My dreams of you.’

Steve bit back a smile, fearing Bucky might think it was meant mockingly. ‘Got any theories?’

Bucky shook his head. ‘Just that you’re a meddling witch trying to make me feel sorry for you so I don’t kill you.’

‘That’s not what it is. I wouldn’t –’ Steve’s voice went small as he realised the heartlines had worked. Now he just had to make them kick in so Bucky would remember him. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you, Bucky.’

Bucky froze, and his eyes widened at the use of his name. ‘Don’t call me that,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t know me.’

_God_ , Steve was tired. ‘I know you,’ he said, keeping his voice steady. ‘I know your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I know your parents are overbearing, and I know you have a sister called Rebecca. I know you hate pineapple on pizza, I know you like mandarin and basil scented candles, and I know you like to snuggle in bed.’

Bucky was getting more and more confused by the second, because he had _never met this man before_ and yet, he knew all these small things about him. ‘But I don’t know you.’

‘I know you hate being tickled, but you have a ticklish spot right under your ribs you don’t mind. I know you like M&Ms in your popcorn, and I know you have a motorbike you secretly call Daisy,’ Steve’s bottom lip trembled, and everything in his mind was yelling at him to _stop stop stop_ , but he couldn’t do it. ‘I know you like having your neck kissed, and I know you like having your thighs bit, and I know what you look like when you’re in total ecstasy, and I _know_ you, Bucky.’

‘No,’ Bucky whispered. ‘Stop.’

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t stop now, not when this might be his last chance to talk to Bucky, to force the heartlines into action, to bring the man he loved more than life itself back to him. ‘I know this,’ Steve said, his voice cracking, ‘because I know you, and I love you, and you don’t even know my name.’

‘This is a trick,’ Bucky said, almost to himself. ‘This is a trick, you went into my head and pulled all of this out. You’re just doing this so I won’t kill you. We’ve never met.’

‘I know,’ Steve said quietly, but seeming so loud in the silence of the forest. ‘I know you think that, and if you truly believe it, then you can kill me, because I’ve lost you forever.’

Bucky rubbed his eyes forcefully as Steve stepped towards him and knelt in the bracken. ‘But you don’t know me.’

Steve sighed and looked around the glade they were in. Picturesque. It reminded him of his home, where he had lived with his parents and his family, long before he had met Bucky, before he’d met even Natasha. He wondered if maybe this was the same place – that he’d come full circle, back to where it had all started. ‘You picked a nice place, Buck. It wouldn’t be so bad to die here.’

‘Why would you do that to someone you’ve never met? Why would you put that on me?’ Bucky asked, horrified.

‘You’re a hunter, right? Killing witches is in your nature. I’m giving you the opportunity to end this, Bucky. After me, you’ll be free to live your life. Your parents will get off your back, and you’ll be happy, and even if that’s without me, it’s what I want for you, okay? I’ve made peace with all this.’

Bucky was silent as he considered his options. Here, looking at this witch, who had confirmed everything Bucky had been afraid of, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to kill him, and now he knew he would never forgive himself if he did, but his entire being was so used to saying _it’s a witch and it has to die!_ and Bucky was on the verge of tears.

He didn’t know what to do.

If Bucky killed the witch, then he was right – he would be free to live his life out from under his parents’ thumbs. Bucky would be happy, but he would always wonder about this witch. He just… he _didn’t know_ him. The witch knew the most intimate details of Bucky’s life, but…

‘I’m sorry, Bucky,’ Steve said quietly. He figured there was no point now. Bucky didn’t remember him. The heartlines must’ve not fully worked. He was done now. ‘I’m sorry I failed us.’

And just like that, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Stop with this, stop talking, stop _saying_ all of these _things_!’ He was straight up sobbing by now, the tears rolling unchecked down his cheeks. ‘I can’t do this anymore! I can’t do it!’

Bucky stretched his fingers reflexively as he pulled at the air, wrapping the oxygen around his hands as he pulled it from the witch’s face, leaving the blond man gasping on the ground, clawing at the earth.

If he could have pulled any air in, it would be coming straight back out in pain and fear, as his body went into shock and started shutting down bit by bit. He collapsed sideways, trying to drag himself away from the bubble Bucky had created to pull his ability to breathe.

Usually Bucky was much better at this. Killing witches was, as the witch had said, in his nature. Back when Bucky had been a ruthless hunter, back when he was what his parents _wanted_ him to be, he could do this so much cleaner. He could remove the oxygen more completely, or drown someone with the scarcest moisture in the air. This time, there was too much emotion in Bucky’s system for it to be effective.

Instead of removing the oxygen from the air around the witch, he’d taken just enough for it to be painful, like being in the highest altitude with no adjustment time. The witch was being _starved_ in a way that made it seem like just that – he was getting just enough to stay alive, but it would be torture until his body gave out and finished the job Bucky couldn’t.

Bucky could feel the witch’s life force ebbing like the edge of the river behind them, flowing into Bucky like the current. It was making him stronger while the witch suffered, and once, _God_ , _once_ Bucky had found pleasure in this. He’d liked how it felt to have someone die by his hands. Not this time, though, and Bucky couldn’t fucking place why.

The witch’s words had affected him, of course they had. Everything he had said was true, but that _Bucky_ was the last thing the witch could lose? And if he couldn’t get him back, he was happy to die? It didn’t make sense, and Bucky just sobbed harder, as his grip on the elements started to fade.

Then everything in Bucky’s body was screaming at him that _this is wrong_ and it rolled through him so strongly, like wave of disgust, Bucky almost vomited, and dropped his hold on the air. _This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is –_

‘Steve.’

And Bucky remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u all so much for reading etc and i hope you enjoyed it :)))
> 
> i'm on tumblr [here](http://jjjakesully.tumblr.com) if u wanna come talk to/yell at me :)


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